“Nothing’s wrong,” Becca said to Kelly, still smiling. “We were talking about a friend of mine. Weren’t we, Ms. Simon?”

“Yes,” I said, hastily gathering my bag and standing up. The distinctive Jesse scent vanished, and all I could smell was the ocean and the crisp sharp scent of the chlorine from the Walterses’s pool. Where was he? Nearby, obviously. “A good friend. Well, it’s been nice visiting with you, Becca, but I have to go now.”

“Do you really?” Becca asked, disappointed. “Can’t you stay for lunch?”

“No, she can’t,” Kelly said. She set the tray of lemonade in the exact spot on the chaise longue where I’d been sitting so that she could ensure I wouldn’t rejoin them, then lowered herself onto the chaise beside it. “Debbie’s here. I’m sure you’ll want to say good-bye to her on your way out.”

“Debbie?” It took me a second to figure out who she meant.

“Yes, your sister-in-law?” Kelly gave me a dirty look. “Surely you remember her. She and I are taking Becca to the mall to get a new dress and a mani-pedi because she’s got a party tonight. Don’t you, Becca?”

Becca glanced at her stepmother. “Yeah, I do. I mean, I do have a party. I didn’t know Mrs. Ackerman was coming over—”

“Well, she’s here. We’re having lunch first on the veranda. I’d invite Ms. Simon but Paolo didn’t prepare a large enough salmon. I’m sure Susan will understand.”

“Oh, I do.” I was already turning to go, thankful for the heads-up. Debbie was the last person I wanted to run into, especially if Jesse was somewhere on the premises. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Bye, Ms. Simon!” I heard Becca calling after me. “And thank you!”

I waved over my shoulder as I hurried down the side steps to the driveway, not even glancing back.

Debbie, I was certain, would enter through the house, not the yard. There was no chance I’d run into her and have to make awkward small talk. Fortunately I’d driven Jake’s BMW, so she might not even have recognized it in the driveway—at least not as readily as she would the dilapidated Land Rover, about which she—and her father—constantly complained. Why wouldn’t I allow the Mercedes King to sell me a nice E-Class sedan? Leases started at only $579 a month.

I peered over the security gate leading from the pool to the Walterses’s sprawling front yard, which sloped all the way down to a thick stone wall to 17-Mile Drive and from there, the sea.

There was definitely a male figure leaning against a car by the beach, across the street from the stone columns leading to Casa di Walters.

I couldn’t tell, at that distance, who it was, but the car I recognized by sight. It was a Land Rover. My Land Rover.

My heart somersaulted inside my chest.

The steps from the pool down to the driveway were quite steep and zigzagged a bit, and I was taking them at something of a clip so I didn’t even see that there was someone coming up them until I nearly collided into him—or her, as it turned out.

“Jesus!” Debbie yelled. “Watch it! Oh, Suze. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, hi.” Debbie was wearing a long yellow maxi dress and clutching a large turquoise beach bag and hat. She looked great, and, from the smug expression on her face, she knew it. “Sorry, I didn’t see you. I was just . . . I came by to see Becca’s dad about some issues she’s been having at school.”

“Wow.” Debbie’s tone was flat. “I guess the Mission Academy offers special services to some of their students, the ones with fathers who are huge donors. If my dad coughed up a hundred thousand donation, would my girls get special home visits, too?”

“I did pay your girls a home visit this week, Debbie, remember? No hundred thousand donation necessary.”

“Right.” She snorted. “That was for some class you’re taking. Don’t pretend like it was because you or anyone else at that school cares about the girls.”

I reached out and grabbed her arm before she could move past me on the stairs.

“Actually, Debbie, I do care about your girls.”

I was anxious to get down to Jesse, but I knew I had to attend to this little matter first. It was another one of Paul’s messes I felt obligated to clean up.

“That test I conducted at your house showed that your girls are gifted—really gifted, Debbie. And I was wondering if you’d be interested in enrolling them in this new program I heard about through the school I go to.”

Debbie stopped trying to continue up the stairs and lowered her sunglasses so she could stare at me over their gold frames, intrigued. There was nothing most parents loved hearing more than the word gifted, especially when applied to their own child.

“It’s really exclusive—and very expensive,” I went on quickly. Debbie had to lean in to hear me above the pound of the surf. “But I think I can get the girls a scholarship, so it would be free.”

Lord help me if she ever found out I was the program.

But Debbie’s interest sharpened perceptibly at the other magic word. “Free? Are you sure?”

I nodded. “Positive.”

“What test was it that showed that the girls are gifted? I mean, their father and I have always thought they’re gifted, but Sister Monica and especially that cow Sister Ernestine seem to think the opposite.”

“Their father? You mean Brad.” I studied her reaction carefully.

“Of course I mean Brad, Suze.” She whipped off her sunglasses to squint at me in the strong sunlight. “Who else would I mean? What is wrong with you? Have you been sampling Jake’s wares? You know you should lay off that stuff, especially if you’re going to be driving.”

She wasn’t bluffing. Debbie truly believed that Brad was the father of her children, and that I, as usual, was the one with the problem.

And who was I to disabuse her of that notion? Wasn’t it better for everyone that she—and Brad—go on believing this? I thought so, at least for now. Baby steps. One secret at a time.

“It’s a new test,” I said with a shrug. “Sometimes highly creative and intelligent children can be a challenge, especially to educators who are already overburdened with so many other students. But I think this program could really help the girls. It’s after school.”