The Chief had said he believed him, but Eddie was dubious.

At first, Eddie had laughed. He found the idea genuinely funny. “Me?” he said. “Me and Madeline? Oh my God, no, no, no!” Eddie wasn’t sure how to successfully get his point across. “No, I’m sorry for laughing right in your face, but that is simply not true.”

The Chief said, “Eddie, I told you, I don’t judge.”

“Well, in this case, there is no reason to judge,” Eddie said. “Because it’s not true. I don’t cheat on my wife. I’ve never been unfaithful, not once.”

The Chief’s face was blank. Eddie was probably saying too much. That was the problem with situations like this: if you said too little, people assumed you were guilty, and if you said too much, it sounded like you were overexplaining because you were guilty. Eddie wanted to ask the Chief where he had heard the rumor about him and Madeline—who were the three sources? Maybe Eddie could contact those sources and try and quash the gossip. But those, most likely, weren’t the original sources. Gossip was like a virus that split and multiplied thousands upon thousands of times. If the Chief had heard the rumor three times, then it was everywhere.

Eddie nearly said, The reason Madeline called is because she lent me money and she wants it back.

That would, no doubt, explain the whole thing away, but the last thing Eddie Pancik wanted anyone on Nantucket to know was that he’d borrowed money from his best friends, who were by no means loaded themselves. For a real-estate agent, financial troubles were the kiss of death. If people thought he was a failure, then he would become a failure. No one was going to seek out a real-estate agent who was sinking.

“It’s not true,” Eddie said, in as humble and plaintive a voice as he could muster.

“Okay, Eddie,” the Chief had said. “Okay.”

The subject had dropped there, but even as Eric carved up the bass with the precision of the surgeon he would someday become, Eddie felt the conversation fouling the air. On top of everything else, Eddie had heartburn and the start of a hangover. There were Tums in his car and in his desk drawer at work. Suddenly, Eddie couldn’t wait to get away.

With the handshake, the Chief had said, “Thanks for coming today, Eddie. I enjoyed hanging out. Let’s do it again.”

“The pleasure was mine,” Eddie said. That had been true, until the very end. “Thank you for inviting me. I’d love to join you again sometime.”

But as Eddie walked away, he was sure there wouldn’t be another time. Or maybe there would be. The Chief said he didn’t judge.

Eddie pulled out his phone. There was only the one missed call from Madeline—no texts, no new business. Should Eddie call Madeline back and tell her about this rumor? Maybe if they both worked to combat it, it would go away? Or would their joint effort have the opposite effect?

He decided not to call Madeline. He decided not to give the absurd idea any energy. He sure as hell couldn’t have Grace finding out.

Instead, he dialed Nadia. He said, “You need to be at the house at ten o’clock tonight.”

“We on it, Eddie,” Nadia said. “Today, we all go to salon for hair, and to the dentist.”

Dentist? Eddie thought. He felt virtuous for five or ten seconds; this side job was encouraging the girls to take care of themselves. He doubted any of them had ever visited a dentist before in their lives. He prayed they’d gone to Dr. Torre and not that clown McMann.

The sun beat down on the top of Eddie’s bald head. He couldn’t believe he’d lost another hat!

Tums, he thought. He needed Tums.

Eddie headed in the back door of his office and stuck the bag filled with fish fillets in the kitchen fridge, which also held three bottles of Dom Pérignon, kept handy to celebrate big closings, and a couple of cartons of Greek yogurt, which was what Eloise liked to eat for lunch.

He popped out to the main room. Barbie was on the phone, Eloise was on the computer.

“Hello, all,” Eddie said.

“Eddie,” Eloise said. “How was the fishing?”

“I can’t complain,” Eddie said. “A day on the water is better than a day anywhere else.”

“I didn’t even know you liked the water,” Eloise said.

“No,” Eddie said. “Me either.”

“Well,” Eloise said, “I brought you some Boston cream doughnuts from the Bake Shop, just in case you didn’t catch any fish.” She held out a box of doughnuts—eight left, which meant Eloise must have eaten four herself, because Barbie wouldn’t touch doughnuts.

“I did catch fish,” Eddie said. “But I can’t resist.” He plucked a doughnut out of the box.

“Oh, I know,” Eloise said. “I know all your favorite things.”

The phone rang, and Eloise hurried to answer it. Please, Eddie thought, let that be a twenty-million-dollar listing.

Eddie carried the box of doughnuts over to Barbie’s desk and sat down at the chair next to it, meant for the buyers and sellers.

She said into the phone, “Listen, I have to call you back later. Bye-bye.” And she hung up.

“Who was that?” Eddie asked.

“P,” Barbie said.

P for personal. Eddie was aware that Barbie had men, lovers, dates, whatever, but he had no idea who they were and no clue whom to ask. Barbie knew everyone on this island, but she didn’t have any close friends. For holidays, she celebrated with Eddie and Grace and the twins—or else she went away, presumably with the men she knew. Were any of the men wealthy? He wondered. Manolos were expensive, and Barbie drove a 1974 Alfa Romeo that required near-constant upkeep. But Barbie had bought her house in Fishers Landing outright in 1999, and she had no children. Her life was blissfully simple.