The girl looked up at her, and Laura realized her first impression had been wrong. Madeleine wasn’t nondescript at all, she was simply well camouflaged. At first glance all her colors ran together, but now that Laura was looking closely she could see Madeleine’s eyes were agate green, her skin was cream, and her hair was the color of an unskinned almond. To complete this all-natural, earth-toned palette, God had seen fit to give her dark brown freckles and eyelashes that were so thick and black she appeared to be wearing makeup, when in fact she wasn’t and probably never would. She was mousy only in the way a field mouse is mousy—delicately beautiful, finely drawn, and exquisitely trembly. She gave the impression she was easily alarmed and could possibly burst into tears if someone raised their voice. There had been a girl at Laura’s high school like this, who’d thought it funny to appear terrified by Laura’s size, all the better to highlight her tiny femininity to any boys nearby. Over the years Laura had gotten closer and closer to pushing her over with one hand and single-footedly stompling her into a nub, but had restrained herself. She was 100 percent ready to pick up where she’d left off, should this tiny creature also turn out to be a total pain in the butt.

Laura headed back to the kitchen with the mouse-girl in tow, and as she entered the room, she saw Asher’s eyes seek out Madeleine’s face immediately. Maggie wasn’t looking, but when Asher said the girl’s name, her back stiffened. She gave a very convincing impersonation of someone who hadn’t heard a word, and if she stirred the salad dressing a little more vigorously, the difference was subtle.

Asher came over, his face bright with color, and after a brief hesitation he and Madeleine hugged. He had to stoop to embrace her, and once again Laura was reminded of tiny animals in nests held together with spiderwebs. Asher pulled away and smiled. “You look wonderful, it’s so lovely to see you.” He sounded . . . relieved, somehow.

Polly looked over, and Laura caught her eye. Almost instantly Polly looked away again, feigning disinterest and fooling no one.

“You too,” said Madeleine shyly, and stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. “I’m glad you’re home.”

Then Maggie was there, holding out her hand. “Hello, Madeleine, you’re looking very fit.” This was ludicrous, as Madeleine resembled a consumptive on her last legs, but judging by the undertone, this was an old dig.

They shook hands, then Madeleine peeped at Maggie from under her lashes and said, “It’s nice to see you. It’s funny, you’ve gotten older but everything else looks exactly the same. Same furniture, same pictures, same spoons on the wall.” She looked around and said softly, “Probably the same dust, but still . . .”