Allegra Pancik refused to discuss the matter of the betrayal with any of her friends, including Hollis Brancato. This made everyone in the high school believe that Allegra was taking the situation very, very seriously—perhaps more seriously than she had taken anything in her sixteen years.

GRACE

The week started with a beautiful, sunny, and warm day—an expected high of seventy-eight degrees!—and Grace put on a jean skirt she hadn’t worn since before the twins were born.

When Benton arrived, he whistled at her from across the yard. “At last,” he called out, “I get to see those bare legs.”

Grace was standing out by the Adirondack chairs, drinking coffee as she overlooked Polpis Harbor. Finally, there were some boats in the water. Summer was on its way.

She watched Benton stride out to her. He was wearing a T-shirt and jeans, his Buckeyes hat, and his wraparound Oakley sunglasses with the lenses that reflected the spring sky. She couldn’t get over how much she desired the man. When he reached her, she locked her arms around his neck, and they started kissing. Grace ran her fingers over his face, she tugged on the ginger curls that stuck out beneath his hat. Benton’s hands grabbed her ass in her skirt, which was a new, surprising move for him, and then he lifted her up clear off the ground, and she wrapped her legs around him.

He groaned. She thought, This is it. It’s going to happen. He was so hard that she could feel him poking through his jeans. She tightened her legs.

“Please,” she said.

“I can’t,” he said. He bit her bottom lip and looked her in the eyes. “Damn it. I can’t resist you. I’m going to make love to you right here in the grass, right here in the sun. Are you okay with that?”

She was in such a state of delirium, every inch of her body yearning for him, that she couldn’t even answer. She set her feet back on the ground and was about to lie back when she heard a distinctive squeaking noise. She whipped around to see Hope settling into the hammock with a book.

“Oh no!” Grace whispered. What was Hope doing home? Then Grace remembered that both girls had taken the SAT that morning, and when they were done with the test, they were done for the day.

Benton also turned and saw Hope. He looked at Grace. Shit! he mouthed. Did she see?

“I don’t know,” Grace whispered. “I don’t think so?” The hammock was a hundred yards away, but it faced in the direction of the Adirondack chairs and the harbor, so how could Hope not have seen her mother with her legs wrapped around Benton Coe’s waist, the two of them madly kissing? And yet, Hope hadn’t screamed and fled for the house; nor had she called Grace out and demanded an explanation. She hadn’t so much as cleared her throat. So maybe she hadn’t seen.

“Act normal,” Grace said.

“Normal?” Benton said, as if he didn’t know what the word meant. He was visibly shaken. Grace reached for his hand and gave it a discreet squeeze.

“Come say hi,” she said. “If you scurry off, it will really look suspicious.”

“Let’s talk about gardening,” Benton said.

“The rose bed,” Grace said. “Lecture me.”

Benton raised his voice a little as they walked toward the hammock. “You need to cut them back if you want to force a more lavish bloom,” he said. “I know it sounds counterintuitive. And you should wipe down each leaf with a mixture of two parts water and one part lemon juice.”

Grace nodded, then pretended to notice Hope in the hammock. “Darling!” she said. “You’re home! How was the test?”

Hope gazed at Grace and Benton over the top of her book. Her expression was impossible to gauge. “Fine,” she said.

“Fine,” Grace repeated. “What does that mean, fine?”

“It means the test was fine, Mother,” Hope said. “And Allegra wanted me to tell you she went to the beach.”

“How did Allegra do on the test?” Grace asked.

Hope said, “I have no idea.” She gave Benton a smile that seemed friendly and sincere. “Hey, Benton.”

“Hey, Hope,” Benton said. “It’s good to see you! What are you reading?”

Hope held up her book: Love in the Time of Cholera, by García Márquez. “It’s for honors English,” she said.

“García Márquez is one of my favorite writers,” Benton said. “Are you enjoying it?”

“I haven’t really gotten into it yet,” Hope said.

“Have you ever read Nabokov?” Benton asked. “Lolita? You have to read Lolita. You basically shouldn’t be allowed to claim personhood until you’ve read Lolita.”

Hope shook her head, and Grace gave Benton’s arm a playful swat. “She’s only sixteen,” Grace said. “I’m not sure she’s ready for Lolita.”

“One is never too young for fine literature,” Benton said. “I’m so used to telling my clients which perennials to plant in the shade… but reading is my secret passion. Have you ever heard of Goodbye, Columbus by Philip Roth? That’s my favorite book of all time. You will love it.”

Hope shook her head.

“Any Salinger?”

“Catcher in the Rye,” Hope said. “For English. But I didn’t like it.”

“It’s hard to understand the subtext, I think,” Benton said. “Holden is all messed up because his brother died. You should try Franny and Zooey.”