“His secretary? You mean Eloise?”

“Yes, Eloise,” Rachel said.

The thought of sweet seventy-year-old Eloise busting open a prostitution ring run by Eddie and Barbie was comical. And yet, Madeline could sort of see how it might be possible.

“Was Grace in on it?” she asked.

Rachel laughed, and Madeline vowed that this would be the last conversation—beyond polite small talk—that she would ever have with Rachel McMann. The woman was a pit viper. “Of course not!” Rachel said. “Grace was too busy screwing the gardener!”

“So Eddie’s in jail, then?” Madeline said.

“Out on bail,” Rachel said. “I guess the check Grace wrote bounced, so his sister and Glenn Daley had to come save the day. They’re seeing each other, you know.”

“Barbie and Glenn?” Madeline said. She had thought they were mortal enemies. “How do you know all this?”

“How does anyone know anything?” Rachel said. “I heard it on the street. People are talking.”

Madeline hung up with Rachel, took ten breaths, walked to the window, and gazed down onto Centre Street. People are talking. Sure enough, there on the corner of India and Centre were Blond Sharon and Susan Prendergast, blabbering away.

Madeline wanted to call Trevor, but he would be in the air.

My fifty thousand dollars, gone, she thought. Really and truly gone. Madeline thought she would feel complete devastation, but instead she experienced a kind of relief. The money was gone, and so she was freed from worrying about it.

All she could think about was Grace. Poor Grace! Madeline decided the time had come to set aside her fear and pride.

She called Grace’s cell phone. No answer, but Madeline wasn’t surprised. She hung up without leaving a message.

Next, she called the house. Her heart was hammering, and her temples throbbed. She hadn’t been this nervous since… she couldn’t remember when. Maybe ever.

One of the twins answered. “Hello?” The voice sounded very curious; of course, Madeline’s name would have popped up on the caller ID.

Madeline exhaled. It was Hope.

“Hi, Hope,” Madeline said. She thought about identifying herself, but that seemed awkward and pointless. Hope knew who it was. “Is your mom there?”

“She’s here,” Hope said. “But she told us she doesn’t want to talk to anyone on the phone.”

“Okay,” Madeline said. “Tell her I’m on my way over.”

Grace was sitting on the front step when Madeline arrived. Madeline thought maybe she might be holding a shotgun to ward Madeline off, but she was holding something even more surprising. A cigarette. Grace was smoking.

“Don’t look so shocked,” Grace said. “I used to smoke in college.”

“I didn’t know that,” Madeline said.

“See?” Grace said. “Still things to learn about your best friend.”

The phrase best friend floated between them, a peace offering. Madeline took both of Grace’s hands. “What’s going on?” she said.

Grace stubbed her cigarette out on the front step. “Let’s go upstairs,” she said.

They assumed the same postures that they had weeks earlier, back when Grace had just kissed Benton for the first time. Madeline sat in the green leather chair, and Grace fell face first across the crushed-velvet sofa. Madeline recalled her words from that night. I’ll point out, Grace, because I’m your best friend and it’s my job, that no good can come of this.

No good.

Madeline thought that Grace might want to start with what had happened to Eddie, but instead, her lower lip wobbled, and she burst into tears. I thought Benton and I were in love; I was making plans to leave Eddie, maybe as soon as the end of the summer. But then Benton and I were in the garden shed making love, and Eddie came home and found us. He didn’t see anything, but he knew what was happening, obviously, and he told Benton to leave and never come back. Grace swallowed. And Benton left. I’ve been trying to get ahold of him, but he’s shutting me out. He sent me a text saying he’s moving to Detroit!

Madeline sat on the floor next to the sofa and rubbed Grace’s back while she cried. Madeline would never say so out loud, but this was probably all for the best.

Or maybe not. Maybe the best ending was the one Angie had described and the one Madeline had written. I want an ending where the woman is happy instead of good.

Madeline reached into her bag and pulled out her manuscript. She had planned on giving it to Grace as a symbolic gesture—Grace could shred it or burn it; Madeline didn’t care.

But now she had a different idea.

“Listen,” she said. “I did write a novel that was based on your relationship with Benton.”

Grace raised her face. “You did not! I thought that was just a stupid rumor. I didn’t think there was any way you would…”

“I did,” Madeline said. “And here it is.” She plopped the manuscript down on the side table. “But don’t worry, I’m not going to publish it.”

“You can’t publish it, Madeline!” Grace said. “Especially not now!”

“I know, I know, Grace,” Madeline said. “I told my publisher to pull it off the list.”

Grace sat up, and her expression turned to one of rage. “I can’t believe you! I told you about Benton because you are my friend! My best friend! And what? You used everything I told you? You promised you would never betray me, but you did. You did!”