Having disappeared into her own reverie, she wasn’t paying attention when the conversation moved from musical instruments to the subject of Laura Costello.

Strangely enough, Madeleine started it.

She looked at Laura, decided she needed to evaluate this other person living in the house with Asher, and asked, “So, Laura, what is it you do for a living? Asher says you’re new in town?”

Laura, who had been peacefully letting the sounds of conversation wash over her while she contemplated the hand and wrist involvement in spoon use, looked up and hastily swallowed.

“Um, I’m going to grad school to study physical therapy. And yes, I’ve been here around a month. It’s very nice.”

Madeleine deployed a very useful muscle called the mentalis to pout a little. “Is that like a massage therapist?”

“No,” said Polly, leaping in while Laura was mentally counting to ten before answering. (The conflation of physical therapy and massage therapy was a bugbear for both sides of the confusion, and Laura was tired of clarifying.) “Physical therapists help people recover from accidents and injuries.”

“But you do do massage?” Madeleine said to Laura, ignoring Polly.

Laura nodded and opened her mouth, but Polly had her back up and was taking this one for the team.

“Sure, but she does a lot more than that. She helps people learn to walk again, things like that. Useful things.”

“What do you do, Madeleine?” asked Libby, wading into undercurrents he was totally oblivious to.

“I’m an interior designer,” said Madeleine, at which Polly made a snorting noise she quickly turned into a cough.

Madeleine had already identified Polly as her only competition for Asher’s affections, even though she wasn’t sure she was interested in his affections. She’d grown bored of the conversation about musical instruments and was ready to take back control of the evening. Despite the fact that she looked like a character from Beatrix Potter, Madeleine was . . . well, there’s no other way to say it: an asshole. She’d had parents who were proud of her prettiness and very little else, and the fact that she’d always gotten what she wanted as long as she stayed quiet and smiled long enough made her resentful and sour. She didn’t like other women, because they were friendly at first and then less so, whereas men were oblivious at first and then very obliging.

“Asher tells me you work in a shop, Polly.” She made “shop” sound like “brothel.”

Polly nodded. “A bookstore, yes. Have you read any good books?” She didn’t add the usual “lately,” but left it there.

Madeleine narrowed her eyes, and responded, “Yes, of course. Asher also tells me you’re an actress.”

Polly nodded.

“Have you been in anything I might have seen?”

Polly shrugged. “I don’t know, I don’t do reality TV.”