Now, of course, Grace and Benton were lovers, and so any mention of McGuvvy was newly loaded.

“She wanted to get married and have kids,” Benton said. He shrugged. “Can’t really blame her. That’s what women her age want.”

“And you didn’t want… which part?” Grace asked. “You didn’t want to get married? Or you didn’t want kids?” Grace had never considered the possibility of Benton wanting children. She thought of Jean Burton asking Grace if she was pregnant. Grace was forty-two years old; she was the mother of teenagers. She hadn’t given any thought to being pregnant in years. She had felt Madeline was nuts to keep trying for another child after thirty-five, after Brick was in middle school.

But now, she wondered… if things progressed and Grace left Eddie and married Benton, would she consider having another child?

“I don’t know, Grace. I guess I didn’t want any of it with McGuvvy,” Benton said.

Grace sipped her wine. She and Benton walked slowly around the other koi ponds, and then they followed a flagstone path that led to a hidden koi pond, one nearly encircled by white ‘Annabelle’ hydrangea bushes.

“Six koi ponds!” Benton said gleefully.

There was a stone bench by this pond, and none of the other partygoers had discovered it, so Grace sat. She wanted to finish the conversation.

“Do you want to get married?” Grace asked. “Do you want to have children?”

Benton regarded her and sighed. “That’s a confusing question for me to answer right now.”

Grace knew what he meant. The whole topic was fraught. She and Benton were having a love affair, which was hot and immediate. And, Grace had thought, evanescent. How do you see things ending? Madeline had asked. The answer, at that time, was that Grace had expected the whole thing to pop like a soap bubble. She had expected to wake up one day and feel back to her normal self, in love with her husband and her girls and her chickens. But now that she was deeper into it, now that she was, most certainly, falling in love, Grace couldn’t bear to think of an ending. And so—if not an ending, a future. And if a future—then the answers to these questions were important.

“Forget marriage for a second,” she said. “Do you want children?”

“Yes,” he said. “I’ve always wanted children.”

Grace sipped her wine. Tears sprang to her eyes for no reason. Despite the complications with Hope’s birth, Grace could still have children. But she was old. Benton deserved someone younger, someone like McGuvvy.

He wiped the tear from her cheek. “Grace, please. Let’s not have this conversation here. It’s not a good idea.”

“Yes, well,” Grace said. “I wasn’t the one who brought up McGuvvy.”

“I didn’t bring her up either,” Benton said. “Your friend did.”

“God,” Grace said. “That woman is not my friend.” She stood up from the bench and finished her champagne. She was suddenly angry, though she couldn’t say why. She and Benton were having a tête-à-tête, as usual, but it had ventured into uncomfortable territory, and their sensibilities were no longer dovetailing so nicely. Grace should never have exposed their tender new love to the outside world.

Benton pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to Grace so she could dry her tears.

“My grandmother would have loved you,” Grace said.

“You think?” Benton said. He held one of Grace’s hands and gazed down at her with that look he had. She thought, He’s going to…

But at that moment, Blond Sharon came clomping down the flagstone path with Jody Rouisse in tow.

“Oh, there you are!” Blond Sharon said. “We were wondering what became of the two of you.”

Jody said, “Are you okay, Grace? Have you been crying?”

“I’m fine,” Grace said, sniffing, shoring herself up to smile.

“We’re going to hit la grande table,” Benton said. “I’m starving.”

“I love the stinky cheese!” Blond Sharon said.

As Grace and Benton strolled out of the hidden koi pond, Grace said, “I want to get out of here.”

“You read my mind,” Benton said. “That woman is stinky cheese.”

“They all are,” Grace said. Suddenly, Grace felt like Eleanor must have when Grace introduced her to the henhouse. Hillary and Dolly had nearly pecked her half to death.

Grace found Jean Burton and made their excuses.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving so soon,” Jean Burton said. “I haven’t made my speech yet.”

“I’ll send a check,” Grace said, giving Jean a hug. She hated to go, but she couldn’t stay another second.

As soon as they were out on the street, Benton said, “Where to…?” The sun had finally set, and darkness was closing in.

“Should we go for a drink?” Grace said.

“We could,” Benton said. “Or we could drive to the beach?”

“That seems risky,” Grace said. They climbed into Grace’s Range Rover, and Grace started the engine. She didn’t want the evening to end—she never wanted it to end—but neither did she want to get caught in a compromising situation. She turned off Fair Street, onto Lucretia Mott Lane. The only reasonable thing to do was to take Benton home.

“Stop the car,” Benton said.