“This is my life,” she muttered. “A dark, musty closet filled with mismatched mittens and moth-eaten scarves.” She thought a silent recitation of all she’d lost would open the floodgates, but she couldn’t seem to muster even a tiny sob. What did this mean?

“Mommy?”

Roxanne saw the light beneath the closet door flicker and she knew Danny, her six-year-old, was outside, his face pressed to the floor, trying to see if she was inside. Sometimes, when she came out of the closet, he was lying on the rug, waiting for her, always the little man ready to come to her rescue. Such a big burden for such a tiny boy, to be the man of the family.

“What is it, sweetie?”

“Rachel wants juice,” he said. “When are you coming out?”

“Mommy’s just dusting,” Roxanne said. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“I can dust the closet for you,” Danny offered.

Roxanne sighed softly. For some reason, she just couldn’t work up a good case of tears today. All the anger she’d kept so well hidden had slowly dissolved until there was nothing left. Two years ago, her husband had walked out. A year ago, the divorce was finalized. And her future began today. The revelation stunned her. She was finally over John. Six years of marriage and that was it.

“Mommy?”

She bent down and looked at her son beneath the door. “Yeah, sweetie.”

“There’s a man on the porch. Should I let him in?”

“It’s probably just the mailman. Maybe he forgot something.”

“He has flowers and balloons. Can I let him in?”

Frowning, Roxanne struggled to her feet and opened the door carefully, waiting for Danny to scoot back. But her son wasn’t on the floor, he was standing at the front door, smiling up at a stranger who waited on the front porch. With a soft cry, Roxanne hurtled past him and slammed the door shut. Then she bent down in front of Danny and put on a stern expression. “Do you remember what Mommy told you? You never, ever open the door to a stranger.”