Madeline was weak with relief. She squeezed her husband as tightly as she could.

Brick cried out. “Why?”

Why? Madeline thought.

We won’t get involved, she thought. Brick and Allegra were kids—this was their first time through all these confusing emotions. Allegra had strayed from the path of decent human behavior, but she was hardly the first person to do so.

We won’t get involved.

They were kids.

The house phone rang. The caller ID said it was the Pancik house.

Trevor said, “That would be Allegra. She’s been calling all morning.”

“Has she?” Madeline said.

“He won’t talk to her,” Trevor said. “I’ve just been letting it ring.”

Yes, Madeline thought. Let it ring.

We won’t get involved.

But the anger in Madeline was its own beast. No mother should have to listen to her child cry like that.

She thought, You wicked, wicked girl.

Madeline picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Madeline?”

It was Grace.

“Hey,” Madeline said.

“I take it you heard?”

“I heard.”

“The police called at ten after three,” Grace said. “Eddie had to go to the station to get her.”

Madeline was silent. We won’t get involved. They had made that promise for a reason—but what was it?

Grace said, “There were a couple of seconds when I thought she was dead. Eddie is… God, he’s just furious.”

He’s furious? Madeline thought.

“He stayed home from work,” Grace said.

Well, even Madeline had to admit: this was surprising. Eddie went to work every day except for Christmas and Thanksgiving. He went to work on Easter, he went to work on Mother’s Day, he went to work on New Year’s Day—just in case someone’s resolution was to buy a house on Nantucket. But, judging from Madeline’s own dealings with Eddie, she gathered there was less going on for Eddie at work than Grace knew.

Grace said, “He came downstairs while Benton was here. I knew he was home, so obviously nothing was going on, but it still made me very uncomfortable to have them in the same place.”

It was the mention of Benton that did it.

“Your daughter’s behavior was despicable, Grace.”

“Madeline, I’m sorry…”

“We all knew!” Madeline said. “That night when we came for dinner, Ian Coburn was texting her nonstop. And you and Eddie tolerated it.”

“No,” Grace said. “Eddie told her to turn her phone off.”

“She was flaunting it in Brick’s face!” Madeline said. “In front of all of us! As if daring us to notice what she was getting away with.”

Grace whispered, “I saw her with him.”

“What?” Madeline said.

“They were kissing in the car in the Stop and Shop parking lot,” Grace said. “I saw them, but I told myself it wasn’t Allegra. I told myself she wouldn’t do that.”

“What?” Madeline said. “How long ago was this?”

“Ten days?” Grace said. “Two weeks?”

“So you knew a week ago, and you didn’t tell me? And you didn’t say anything to Allegra?”

“I didn’t want…”

“You didn’t want what?” Madeline said. She carried the telephone into her bedroom and closed the door. “You didn’t want to face what Allegra was doing to Brick because it’s exactly the same thing you’re doing to Eddie?”

“Madeline…”

“In this case, the apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree,” Madeline said. “Allegra is a cheater, and you, Grace, are a cheater.”

There was silence on the other end, Grace no doubt stunned by Madeline’s words. Madeline couldn’t believe she’d said them out loud, but she was caught up in a swirling tornado of anger—not just about Allegra and Ian Coburn and the fact that Grace had apparently known about it, but also about Eddie and the fifty thousand dollars. Madeline wanted her money back! And, while she was at it, there were other things that ate away at Madeline but that she’d never bothered to bring up. Such as Grace’s migraines. The whole world was supposed to stop and bow down to Grace’s pain once a month, but when Madeline had had her third and worst miscarriage, Grace had attended five o’clock Mass rather than come straight to the hospital. Grace later explained that she was a Eucharistic minister and couldn’t find a last-minute replacement, and she said she had prayed for Madeline and the soul of the baby—but, even so, Madeline had been hurt. Grace was her best friend and should have put everything on hold, especially since Grace alone knew how badly Madeline wanted another baby.

And then there was Madeline’s suspicion that Grace hadn’t actually finished reading her last book, Islandia. Madeline had seen it in Grace’s beach bag the previous summer when Grace had announced that she had “made it” to page 150. And then, months later, Madeline saw the book on Grace’s front hall table, and the bookmark remained at page 150. Had Grace simply stopped reading? Madeline had been too embarrassed to ask, but she had been pretty sure that her own best friend had never finished her book. This was maybe because… Grace’s intellect was too lofty, because she had been a French-literature major at precious Mount Holyoke and read only things she considered “important” and “worthy.”