Six hours after burying Jenny, Helena was trying to take care of the remainder of their dazed group of friends while Kit took care of their businesses. It was a sad state of affairs and as Helena tilted a glass of wine to her lips for the umpteenth time, she wondered if any of their friendships would escape intact.

“What?” Bette’s voice was quiet, inquisitive.

Helena pursed her lips, averted her eyes. “It isn’t…terribly appropriate of me to say.”

Bette’s impatient sigh spurned her onward.

“Well, what if this is what Jenny wanted?” Helena whispered, drawing an amused if tired smile from Bette.

“I lose my house, or else I can’t sell it because I’m either arrested for murder, or at the very least suspected for the rest of my life?” Bette said plainly. “Shane is miserable over Jenny, maybe forever. You and Kit have…what…financial problems from the fallout?”

Helena shrugged. “It’s a terrible thing to think, but what if Jenny’s suicide was the ultimate revenge?”

Bette straightened up and reached for her own glass of wine, which Helena promptly refilled. “You think it was suicide?”

“Yes. Absolutely. It wasn’t any of us.” Helena shook her head. “No way. Still, we’re left with the possibility of a terrible disunity.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.” Bette agreed. “You know, no matter how angry she made me, she was one of us. One of our family. And we’ve lost too much already.”

Their eyes met and silence filled the space between them.

Helena’s cell phone buzzed. She sighed loudly. It was Max, wondering if he might join them after trying to sleep at home and realizing that he just could not. Not anymore.

When Max arrived, Helena was reminded of just how pregnant he actually was. Ready to burst, really. It made Helena smile. Max carried a backpack with spare clothes and yawned when he hugged Bette. He also refused off Helena’s offer to show him to a room. “Relax, ok? I’ll make pancakes in the morning,” He said with a sleepy wave as he made his way upstairs.

“Full house.” Bette said with a tense smile.