Glenn flipped the notepad over. “That’s really none of your business, Eddie.”

None of his business. P for personal. Barbie was sleeping with Glenn Daley! Sleeping, quite literally, with the enemy! She took trips with him to places like Santa Barbara, and she discussed business secrets like Eddie’s deal with Schuyler Pine.

Eddie’s scalp prickled. Had Barbie told Glenn what they were doing on Low Beach Road?

She wouldn’t.

Or would she?

It might be good pillow talk. Hey, guess what? Eddie and I are running a whorehouse.

Eddie tried to think like his sister. They had been so close their whole lives, and yet a part of Barbie, in adulthood anyway, had remained inscrutable. P for personal. There were things Barbie didn’t want Eddie to know. Like… she was sleeping with big, fat, stupid, successful former druggie Glenn Daley.

Had she told him about the girls?

No, Eddie didn’t think so, because something in Glenn’s expression shifted, and Eddie thought, He knows that I know.

“Nine hundred,” Eddie said.

“Six hundred,” Glenn said.

“Seven hundred and you’ve got a deal,” Eddie said, though seven hundred wasn’t quite enough to get him where he wanted to be. But it was seven hundred more than he’d had fifteen minutes earlier, so why not call it a victory?

Eddie put on his Panama hat, the last one in his possession. He had wanted to replace the other two, but he didn’t have the money for such an extravagance.

Seven hundred grand: pay the mortgages on his commercial properties, pay the remaining bills on number 13, pay the mortgages on his house (also a month or two in arrears), pay Hester Phan’s stupid fucking “success bonus,” pay for electricity and water and groceries and gas, like the rest of America. Maybe—maybe—there would be enough to get the floors and countertops installed at number 13, maybe talk to a drywall guy and painters so he would be that much closer to selling and be able to assure Madeline that her money would be coming along shortly.

“I’ll have Ben draw up the papers,” Glenn said.

Lawyers’ fees. Seven hundred grand wasn’t nearly enough.

P for personal.

“Thanks, bro,” Eddie said.

Glenn Daley raised an eyebrow, and Eddie strolled out of the office.

GRACE

The shift was minuscule, but Grace noticed it right away. Benton pulled away from their kiss a second sooner than he might have normally. He said he couldn’t stay for lunch.

On the night of the Sunset Soiree, he had professed his love in the middle of the street. He had made love to Grace in his own bed (a welcome change from the garden shed). But now, he was acting strangely. Grace thought maybe he had been spooked on Friday morning, when she met his truck in the driveway and told him that Eddie hadn’t gone to work, that he was still upstairs asleep, due to the fiasco with Allegra.

Or maybe Benton was just doing that thing that men did when they got close to a woman and the feelings got scary.

She wasn’t sure, but Benton’s timing couldn’t have been worse. Grace needed him. She hadn’t talked to Madeline in three days.

Have you and Madeline had a falling-out?

It was almost like Blond Sharon had predicted it. The only relationship Grace could count on had blown up. Madeline had been so angry. Grace hadn’t even realized Madeline was capable of getting that angry. She was always so sunny and sweet, so California laid back. She took things in stride. She smiled, she listened, she excelled at understanding what she called “the three sides to every story.”

Grace missed her so much. Fifty or sixty times a day, something would happen and Grace would think, I have to tell Madeline. But then she would look at the phone, and she would think of Madeline’s words: Allegra is a cheater, and you, Grace, are a cheater. And Grace would shudder. Madeline didn’t want to hear from her. Madeline thought she was a common harlot.

It was awful heartache, fighting with her best friend. Madeline was probably hanging out at her apartment, breaking her writing discipline so she could meet Rachel McMann for lunch.

Eddie needed to pay Madeline back. Maybe if he did that, Madeline would be less angry, and Grace could call.

And now, on top of everything, Benton was acting funny.

Grace said, “Are you okay? You’re acting funny.”

“I’m not acting funny,” Benton said. “I just can’t stay for lunch today.”

“Nobody else is home, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Grace said. Eddie was back to work, Hope was at the rectory, and Allegra had gone into town to look for a volunteer job. She was to check in with either Eddie or Barbie in person at the office every hour. Neither Eddie nor Grace trusted that Allegra wouldn’t simply slip off to the beach.

“I’m not worried about that at all,” Benton said. He checked his phone. “I have to go.”

“Go, then,” Grace said. “You seem in a terrible hurry.”

He sighed. “Grace.”

“We only have two weeks until they come!” Grace said. She made a grand gesture with her hand. “Does this yard look ready to you?”

“Fifteen days,” Benton said. “And, actually, yes, it does.”

Grace couldn’t figure out what was happening here. This was the same man who had spelled out his love for her, was it not? He had said he didn’t care who heard him.

Then the worst came to mind.

“Is McGuvvy coming today?” Grace asked. “Is she flying in from California?”