Eddie couldn’t believe his rotten luck. He was trying to pay off the bills for number 13, but there were also his six collective mortgage payments, groceries, Allegra’s class, Benton Coe and the damn publicist with her “success bonus.” And Madeline kept asking for her fifty thousand dollars back. She had actually surpassed asking and moved on to begging; in the last phone call, she had been vaguely threatening, making it sound like if Eddie didn’t pay, something would happen that Eddie wouldn’t like.

He understood Madeline was frustrated and possibly even frightened. Eddie had posed the loan of fifty thousand dollars to Trevor and Madeline as an “investment opportunity,” and that was exactly what it would have been if Eddie had sufficient funds to finish the houses or if the market would start cooperating and produce buyers. What Eddie really needed were 2005-era buyers; back then, the economy had been booming, and houses were going for 30 percent above market within twelve hours of being listed.

He hadn’t sold a house since October, a fact that depressed him. He was in a slump, like a baseball player. He had been struggling, then sinking, and now he was drowning. He had approached the Llewellyns at the start of the sinking period because he was tapped out at the banks and nobody else liked him or believed in him enough to lend him the kind of money he needed. He knew Madeline had just gotten a big advance, he knew she would persuade Trevor to say yes. What Eddie had not predicted was how irresponsible Madeline would be with her sudden windfall. She had rented an apartment she didn’t need, and there went twelve grand of her after-tax dollars.

Eddie knew he should feel guilty about what he and Barbie were doing… but he had no choice. He sent Barbie a text about Kasper Snacks, even though she was sitting at her desk on the other side of the office. Barbie was having modest success this year, but she was queen of the small listing—the $359,000 condo out by the airport, the $595,000 three-bedroom, two-bath mid-island home with an unfurnished basement—whereas Eddie dealt only with seven-figure, or preferably eight-figure, properties.

His hubris was his downfall, he supposed. But he was proud of his success—him, a boy from Purchase Street in New Bedford.

The text he sent Barbie said: Girls at TLBR tomorrow night. Kasper Snacks.

I didn’t talk to Kasper Snacks, she texted. How did they know?

Referred by Ronan LNW, Eddie texted.

Trustworthy? Barbie texted.

Seemed to be.

Did you check out the company online? Barbie texted.

It’s Kasper Snacks, Eddie texted. Creator of the Donut Chip?

Barbie texted, ???????

Eddie texted, Everyone eats them but you.

Barbie flashed Eddie a look. My gut is bothering me on this one, she texted. Count me out.

Really? Eddie texted. Barb, this is no different from any other time. Standard operating procedure.

I’m out, Barbie texted. Take my cut.

You’re serious? Eddie texted.

Very, Barbie texted.

He would have argued, but he was too titillated by the thought of an extra seventeen-five a week.

If you insist, Eddie texted. Delete.

Deleted, Barbie texted.

His office manager, Eloise, had been acting strangely the past two or three days, paying all kinds of extra-sweet attention to Eddie, when before she never paid him any attention. Eddie suspected she was going to ask for a raise—which he couldn’t afford to give her, but neither could he afford to lose her. Eloise had brought him a potted snapdragon from Bartlett’s Farm, saying he needed something to brighten up his desk. When he asked if he was going to have to water or deadhead it, she said she would take responsibility for the plant’s care and maintenance.

She said, “I’ll be your own personal gardener.”

He said, “Well, my wife has one; why shouldn’t I?”

Eloise stared at him, and Eddie said, “Benton Coe. Ever heard of him, Eloise?”

“Oh yes,” Eloise said. “He did the rose beds in the back of the Eighteen Hundred House, and he designed the gardens at Greater Light, which are exquisite, I must say.”

“I’m paying him like he’s the Bill Gates of gardening,” Eddie said. He gazed at the vaguely menacing fuchsia jaws of the snapdragon blossoms. “Anyway, this was a very thoughtful gift. Thank you, Eloise.”

“Oh my goodness,” Eloise said. “I nearly forgot.”

“What?” Eddie said. He put on his Panama hat. He needed to get home to the girls. Eddie caught an occasional glimpse of Hope, but he hadn’t set eyes on Allegra in more than three days. Grace had mentioned something about seeing Allegra, or someone who looked like Allegra, with a young man in a red Camaro, and Eddie wondered what that was all about. He would hate it if Allegra and Brick broke up, but maybe this guy with the red Camaro had money and could take care of the expensive habits of Allegra’s lifestyle. The modeling thing wasn’t going to pan out for her, and yet she continued to dress like it might.

“A call came in for you while you were out, and I forgot to give you the message,” Eloise said. She held out a pink slip, and Eddie’s heart seized like an engine block without any oil. He needed an antacid, but they were in the console of his car—another reason he needed to leave. He feared the message was from Nadia, even though Eddie had made it clear she was never to call the office phone. Or it was Kenny Kasper. Maybe Barbie was right, and Kenny Kasper wasn’t really Kenny Kasper; maybe he was Special Agent Kasper from the FBI.

Eloise made the announcement before Eddie could snatch up the slip and read it. “The police chief called,” she said. “He wants you to go fishing with him tomorrow morning.”