Adora Hazzard’s precise preparation in Chapter 1 of a fried egg sandwich—complete with chevron-style cornichons and lemon aioli—immediately establishes her guiding principle: “how you do anything is how you do everything” (3). Her narrative voice reinforces this by presenting two versions of reality; she describes her meticulously crafted ideal but immediately undercuts it with the blunt summary, “Or: I made a fried egg sandwich” (3). This stylistic tic reveals a deep self-awareness, showing Adora actively authoring her life rather than simply living it, curating her actions into a philosophical statement. Her life’s work, she states, is “chasing the Platonic ideal” (3), a mission that transforms mundane tasks into expressions of virtue. This project of intellectual and practical control is the foundation of her Stoic worldview, which she later articulates for the Lockwood twins as a shield against the chaos of modern excess. Adora’s philosophy, however, is not presented as a path to simple contentment; rather, her lessons foreground The Interplay Between Freedom and Happiness, suggesting that true contentment lies in mastering one’s desires.

The casual question from a neighbor—“Are you—[…] in the coven?” (6)—gives a name to the central symbol of Adora’s communal project. What began with the simple, practical act of splitting pre-packaged celery to avoid waste has evolved into a structured, intentional community of single women. The symbol of the coven reclaims a term historically associated with secretive, malevolent female power and redefines it as a source of pragmatic solidarity and mutual support. The arrangement is deeply un-sensational, built on shared expenses for groceries, cleaning services, and cultural subscriptions. In Adora’s mind, it is an “unimpeachably intentional, highly curated, feminist old folks’ home” designed to preempt the isolation and dependency that often accompany aging for single women (9). By pooling their resources, Adora, Minna, and Emily Ann create a sustainable model for independence that operates outside of traditional family structures. The coven is the ultimate expression of Adora’s philosophy of intentionality, a carefully constructed system designed to exert control over the future and ensure a dignified, self-determined life in a world that often discards older women in particular.

The narrative establishes its social landscape through a sharp contrast between the resourceful collectivism of the coven and the insulated, hyper-individualized wealth of the Lockwood family. Adora’s home, the Ansonia, is a “very high-low” environment where rent-stabilized apartments coexist with sprawling, architect-designed residences, reflecting a diverse urban ecosystem rich with history. The Lockwood home, by contrast, is a hermetically sealed glass box, a monument to solving problems with limitless funds—from building an anechoic chamber for phantom limb pain to purchasing €2,500 sneakers. Adora navigates this world as a professional, a moral tutor whose job is to instill values that are fundamentally at odds with her employers’ lifestyle of “Imagine it. Eat it” (22). The introduction of Blanche Falk, the landscape architect dressed plainly in a “black T-shirt stretched at the belly and mustard Carhartt pants” (21), provides an important foil. Blanche also serves the wealthy but retains an outsider’s bluntness and a clear-eyed skepticism, immediately identifying the emptiness of their world. Adora’s decision to invite Blanche into the coven is an act of recognizing a kindred spirit—another woman who knows how to get things done without surrendering her identity.

Despite her meticulous planning, Adora reveals a contradictory embrace of spontaneity that both drives the plot and complicates her character. She begins her days by asking the universe to “Surprise me,” a ritual seemingly at odds with a life dedicated to controlling outcomes. Her most significant actions in these chapters are the product of sudden, intuitive conviction rather than careful deliberation. Upon learning an apartment is available, she immediately makes an off-market offer. After observing Blanche for only a few minutes, she acts on a powerful instinct, deciding, “Intuition tells me you’d be perfect” (30). Adora justifies this impulsiveness as a lesson learned “the hard way that when life leaves you for dead, it’s always the thing you never saw coming” (29). This suggests a past trauma has taught her the limits of rational planning, forcing her to trust a deeper, less intellectual form of wisdom. This tension between her desire for systematic control and her reliance on spontaneous insight creates a central paradox in her character, prefiguring a conflict between her philosophical ideals and the unpredictable nature of life.

Just as Adora’s control over her social and domestic life seems absolute, an unexpected internal force shatters her Stoic composure. At the ballet, an event she attends for solitary reflection, she is overcome by a sudden, intense physical desire for the stranger to whom she gave her extra ticket. She describes the experience in visceral, involuntary terms, stating her heart becomes “loose in my chest” and comparing the sensation to narcotics (35). This moment marks the first significant failure of her philosophical system. The Stoic ideal of remaining unmoved by passions proves useless against the physical reality of desire. Her mortified reaction—ripping her program, fleeing the theater, and immediately trying to distract herself with the coven’s budget—reveals her inability to process an emotion that lies outside her rational framework. This abrupt loss of control suggests that while her philosophy provides a robust defense against external chaos and material desire, it may leave her vulnerable to the unpredictable and powerful forces within herself, challenging her core belief that the only thing worth wanting is “good character.”