The envelope arrived on a Tuesday, which seemed fitting since Tuesdays were when bad things happened to me. I got fired on a Tuesday. My college boyfriend broke up with me on a Tuesday. And exactly three years ago, on a Tuesday in June, I walked away from the only place that ever felt like home. I stared at the cream-colored paper in my hands, my name written in familiar looping handwriting. Harriet Chen. Not Harry, like everyone called me now. Not H, like my coworkers at the marketing firm used to call me before the layoffs last month. Harriet. The full name I hadn't heard in years. The return address made my chest tighten: The Morgan Family, 42 Lighthouse Road, Cove Harbor, Maine.