Madeline let her eyes linger on the wooden footbridge that spanned the brook, then the handcrafted birdhouses, then the Adirondack chairs, artfully arranged to overlook Polpis Harbor. The swimming pool, a dark-tiled rectangle surrounded by old paving stones and the same cobblestones they used on Main Street downtown, was still covered, as was the hot tub. Everything about the Pancik property was paradisaical. Madeline had been to the house thousands of times, and every time the sumptuous beauty of the place stole her breath away. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live with this yard, to see it every second of every day.

Madeline’s “yard” was patches of brown dirt, sand, and crabgrass and, at the border of the property, a mess of scrubby trees, pricker bushes, and weeds. She had one hydrangea, which grew sickly purple flowers. Grace’s hydrangeas—numbering twenty-two—were all pageant winners. They bloomed in blue, purple, pink, white, and green. Madeline hadn’t even known green hydrangeas existed, but yes, they were called ‘Limelight’ hydrangeas, and Grace’s were divine.

“Benton has been here,” Grace said.

“Yes, I can tell,” Madeline said. “Because I only hear from you once every three days.”

Grace’s expression was hard to read. It was half apologetic smile, half something else. “Wine, please,” she sang out. “I’d love some wine.”

Madeline pulled two of Grace’s Baccarat goblets out of the cabinet. Grace liked to use the goblets on Wednesday nights, even though they were fragile and each one cost as much as a night’s stay in the penthouse at the Four Seasons. Madeline had broken one goblet, Grace had broken one, and Eddie had broken two in consecutive weeks. Madeline poured two lavish glasses of the plummy Malbec and brought one to Grace at the stove. “I have some news,” she said.

“You and me both,” Grace said. She took a swill of her wine, then set the goblet down on the sexy granite. “But mine is going to have to wait until later. What’s yours?”

Madeline sucked in a preparatory breath. She worried that Grace would be mad that she had rented the apartment from Rachel McMann, and possibly also that she’d taken the apartment without showing Grace first.

She said, “I rented an apartment in town.”

“What?” Grace yelped.

“It’s not what it sounds like,” Madeline said. “I’m going to use it as a writing studio.”

Grace’s face lit up, and she imitated the patrician accent of her grandmother Sabine. “Splendid, my darling! Where in town?”

“In the blue Victorian on the corner of India and Centre.”

“I’ve always loved that building,” Grace said. She turned down the heat under the onions and peppers and came over to give Madeline a hug. “So you’re a real working girl now, with office space of your own. I’m so jealous! But you deserve it.”

Madeline said, “That’s what everyone keeps saying, but I’m not sure it’s true. It was pretty expensive.”

“How much?” Grace asked.

“Two thousand a month.”

“Eh,” Grace said, shrugging. She returned to the stove and picked up her wine. “That seems reasonable for town in summer.”

Right, Madeline thought. It would seem reasonable to Grace because Grace had never worried about money a day in her life. Grace had been raised in an old Puritan family, the Harpers of Salem, Massachusetts; Grace’s ninth-great grandfather had been the attorney who defended Bridget Bishop, one of the women accused of being a witch. (I am no witch. I am innocent. I know nothing of it. Hanged June 10, 1692.) Grace had three older brothers, the Harper boys, all of them now civil rights attorneys in Boston. Grace and her brothers had been forced to dress for dinner every night growing up in their majestic brick mansion on Essex Street. On the maternal side of the family was Grandmother Sabine, who owned a three-hundred-acre estate in Wayland that Grace used to visit every Sunday. These afternoons included games of croquet in the summer and sleigh rides in the winter. Madeline had always loved hearing details of Grace’s upbringing; she savored them like petit fours. But she couldn’t expect Grace to understand what feeling financially strapped was like.

“And, listen,” Madeline said, wanting to be truthful, because that was her nature. “I heard about the apartment through Rachel McMann.”

“Ugh,” Grace said.

“Eddie is all bent out of shape about it, I think. He stopped by to see the place, and he seemed unhappy I’d gone through Rachel. But it happened by accident. I opened my big mouth, and you know Rachel…”

“Pushy,” Grace said.

“She seized the moment,” Madeline said. “If I’d taken time to collect my wits… if I’d been, you know, hunting for a place, I would have called Eddie. You know I would have.”

Grace waved her hand dismissively. “Eddie will get over it,” she said.

Madeline felt nearly dizzy with relief. She hadn’t expected Grace to take the news on such an even keel. Grace was wound pretty tightly most days, and news like this could catapult her into unreasonable territory. But tonight, Grace was in an exceptional mood. Madeline couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her friend so… playful… so relaxed. She was practically glowing.

“Go outside with the boys,” Grace said. “I’m almost finished up here.”

“Madeline!” Eddie said. He kissed her cheek. “Long time, no see!”