Popsicles! Marked very clearly: For sharing, help yourself, love, Libby. She looked on another shelf and spotted a box of frozen mini-pizzas, with a label: For anyone, love, Polly. A container of ice cream was a gift from Anna, and a nearly empty bottle of vodka was from Maggie, with Happy Holidays on a label around its neck. Ah, thought Laura, I see how it is. Conspicuous and competitive generosity. I can play that game.

She reached for a Popsicle and shut the freezer door. She turned and realized that Daisy the pug was the only animal left, waiting patiently to see what she’d found in the Cold Cupboard of Food. Laura looked down, Daisy looked up. One tooth underbit her top lip on the right. Her ears were folded like rose petals, but one was flipped inside out. Both of her bulging eyes were a bit gummy and slightly misty, but her focus on Laura was laser-esque. Laura narrowed her eyes and took a bite of the rocket-shaped Popsicle, which promptly separated as if directed by mission control. The jettisoned tail section was caught before it hit the ground, yet Daisy appeared not to have moved at all. After holding Laura’s gaze for a few seconds, she swallowed.

Laura finished the Popsicle and wandered out into the garden again, wanting to explore further. Tiny high feels followed her, and she turned to see Daisy in determined pursuit, curved toenails clacking on the flagstones. She really was shaped like a footstool, or a loaf of very dense bread. She walked like a woman wearing a too-tight dress and too-small shoes, but she had gravitas.

The two of them crossed the terrace and descended the shallow stairs to the lower lawn. It was late afternoon and the sun was gilding all the flowers as they made their way across the grass. Daisy wheezed a little and Laura slowed her pace. No need to make enemies at floor level.

The lawn was dotted with dandelions and daisies despite being cleanly mown. Presumably they were spared on purpose, and it reminded Laura of the rug in a preschool. She wandered past the vegetable garden, checking to make sure no one was hiding in the tomatoes, and through a narrow gap between two tall hedges. At first she’d expected to find a garage or maybe a guesthouse, but it was actually a small rose garden, arranged around a pair of benches and a low table. In the distance she heard the front door closing and paused to listen, but there was no further sound.

It was summer and the roses were in full bloom. Her grandmother loved roses, and her apartment was always full of flowers, her balconies dangerously heavy with containers. Laura bent over to sniff, and the first rose was so deeply rich with scent she found herself literally pushing her nose into it, like a large, flightless bee.