“We’ll go,” said Robin quickly. “You’ll love it. In winter the house looks even more a part of the mountain.”

“Is it a mountain? I didn’t think it was a mountain.”

“Hill,” said Robin.

I smiled encouragingly. “Did you go by yourself?”

He checked my eyes and made a rapid decision. “Norma went with me.”

Blood surged to my head, blotting out Robin, the table, the room, all sense and decency. Images rushed at me as though they’d been waiting to be released. On bridges, over falls, in underground caverns he pulled her close, bent over her, and did the things he did to me with a passion born of craving and denial. Clever of her to send me away! But she’d only met him that day on the dock. Even so! Ways were always found where betrayal was concerned. The two of them writhed together, finding what they needed. Her eyes shut, her white throat exposed. All welcome snatched away. All help gone. No one for me, ever again. No place for me, ever again. Once more I felt the invisible hand on my shoulder, sensed rather than heard the voice that, when I was a young person, had enraged me so: Step carefully until you’re sure; things aren’t what they seem; impulsiveness does not always serve you well.

“All these mysterious trips to the lake?” I sneered, turning my mother away and silencing her. “The mythical husband? The blackout!” The biggest insult of all was starting to sink in. “Fallingwater. Really, Robin? Really? Go ahead and fuck her. But don’t take her to Fallingwater. That’s mine. Mine and Maddy’s.”

“Stop it, Eve. Stop for a minute! Listen—”

Neither his astonishment nor his hurt seemed faked, but who could tell? His hand went out; his table was between us. I was standing by this time, my knuckles on the beautiful wood, ready to bolt from the room, the house, the planet, to be anywhere but here, and anyone but myself.

“I bet you lay there afterward and talked about me.”

His mouth was an ugly shape. “Seriously, Eve?”

“Why not? She’s a basket case. She’s off the rails. Her life is over anyway.” I did not recognize my voice; at the same time it seemed more profoundly my own. “What a drag! You think I don’t know what a drag I am? What a colossal bore I am? What a great chance this was—”

“Seriously?” he cut in, measured and cold.

But there was no stopping me.

“Say something! Tell me I’m wrong!” My voice sank. “Look at you. Sitting there lining up your excuses.”