Excerpt from The Book That Matters Most by Ann Hood, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"Uh huh," Ava said.

"I'm going to try one," Cate said, opening the door of a bar.

Inside it was dim and noisy and crowded.

"Cozy," Cate said cheerfully.

Ava followed her friend, watching her sturdy back and broad shoulders. Even in winter, Cate woke early every day and went to the Y to swim. She was a bike rider, a touch football player, someone always ready to pick up a racket or throw a ball. Since Jim had moved out, Cate had convinced Ava to join her at the pool or a yoga class. But Ava had never been good at things like that. When she and Jim went to the beach, they lolled together on striped chaise lounges instead of riding the waves. Or walked slowly along the shore at low tide searching for shells and sea glass, which still filled various bowls and vases around the house.

Remembering these things—the coconut smell of sunscreen and the feel of her hand in Jim's large warm one—sent a sharp stab of pain through her as Ava squeezed in at the crowded bar.

Cate was trying to get the bartender's attention. "So crowded," she murmured, and Ava agreed, looking around at the tattooed and pierced people.

How had she and Jim got from there to here? Ava thought. She pictured him bending to pick up a sand dollar, intact but fragile. He'd held it out to her in the palm of his hand. "See the star in the center?" he told her. "That's the star that led the Wise Men to the manger. And the holes represent the nails on the Cross." Gently, he turned it over. "On this side, there's a poinsettia." She'd stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the lips. "My own personal encyclopedia," she'd said. And he was. Or had been, she corrected herself. A lover of arcane information and strange facts that she never tired of hearing. That sand dollar crumbled when she picked it up at home later that day, Ava remembered, as if it were an omen of what was to come just a few months later when, one night, unable to sleep, Ava wandered downstairs and found a text message blinking on her husband's cell phone: Miss u babe.

She'd stared at it, struggling to make sense of what she saw. The use of u instead of you, the word babe, all of it confusing and mysterious, until she went upstairs to the man she'd thought she could trust, whose trust she had never even doubted, and shook him awake, and waved his cellphone in his sleepy face, and screamed for an explanation. And then came the awful explanation—"I love her. I'm in love with her." Even that terrible night she had heard herself saying, "We can get through this. We can fix this." But Jim, all bedhead and sleepy eyes, shook his head slowly and said, "I think I want to be with her," as if he had just discovered something too.

Cate was nudging her gently now, the bartender looming impatiently in front of Ava.

She ordered a Grey Goose martini, up, with a twist.

"I'll try the pomegranate one," Cate told the bartender. "Frozen," she added.

That was the special holiday cocktail. Ava saw it handwritten in red chalk on a board above the bar: FROZEN POMEGRANATE MARTINI!!!!!

It arrived, all slushy and pink, garnished with cranberries on a bamboo skewer. Cate lifted her drink and clinked her glass against Ava's.

"Here's to tonight," Cate said.

"Yes!" Ava said, clinking her glass to Cate's.

Ever since Cate had announced to Ava that Paula Merino was moving to Cleveland and a spot had opened in the book group Cate ran at the library, Ava had been looking forward to this night. Due to space at the library and a desire to keep the group at just ten members so that everyone had a chance to choose a book selection and have a voice in the discussion, getting a spot was difficult. For over twenty years Ava had listened to Cate describe the book group and how special it was. They went to one another's weddings and brought casseroles when someone lost a loved one and threw baby showers. From time to time, if someone moved away or dropped out—which was rare—Cate asked Ava if she'd like to join. But Ava had never felt the need. Until Jim left.

Excerpted from The Book That Matters Most by Ann Hood. Copyright © 2016 by Ann Hood. Excerpted by permission of W.W. Norton & Company. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.