I am slim in the way of small-framed women. Maddy had been slim in Antonio’s way. When seated, they folded their long legs to one side. Standing, they possessed a natural authority. My fine hair fits my head like a cap. Antonio’s hair, like hers, had ripple and spring to it. His gray eyes were hers too, and the way he used them—up for thought, down for evasion, sideways for humor or embarrassment, while his fingers fiddled childishly with whatever came to hand. He spoke at length in a neutral tone, and then all at once he turned his gaze on me as if to say, I’m telling you this, right here, right now, and you have to listen. That was pure Maddy. If Maddy had inherited my lips, they behaved in a wry, twisty Antonio way. Families who grow up together get used to this mirroring; I imagine they hardly notice it. I had found myself unable to take my eyes off Antonio. When I’d known him before, his features had belonged to him. Now he was a variation of Maddy.

“But what was it like seeing him again?” Robin pressed. “For you, I mean.”

“It was like she was there and not there at the same time.”

“Evie . . .” he murmured, giving up on any real answers. I thought how ordinary my name sounded when he used it. “You’re brave to put yourself through this. I hope it helps . . . settle things for you. I really do.”

“So do I. Sorry!” I said in a rush. “I have to go. Someone’s knocking. Catch you later.”

“Do what you have to do, Ducks . . . But don’t get too drawn into it.”

“Into what? I won’t. Have fun at the lake. Robin?” I called, anxious now that he was going. “Be neighborly. I haven’t met the husband or kids, but Norma’s really nice.”

“I know,” he said. “I ran into her last week. Reception’s crap up there. Text you from the car.”

In the doorway stood Philippa, the English equivalent of Claire. Stout and unadorned, with depths of no-nonsense resolve under her warmth.

“Sorry,” I said. “I sneaked in.”

She peered more closely. “Are you all right? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Oh, I have.” I smiled. “It’s been a long day. I’m exhausted.”

“Of course you are,” she said comfortably. “How people can fling themselves around the planet and then be expected to function . . . I should get an early night if I were you.”