In the morning I boiled an egg and ate it on the terrace, then I took my coffee down to the lake. Without Robin in the house behind me, the dock felt like a boat whose moorings had been cut. I oversaw the lifting of the mist, observed the water’s surface become pocked by little competing breezes, and searched for signs of life in the yellow monstrosity opposite. I even stood up and did some stretches and deep knee bends. Without binoculars I could not confirm whether the movement I thought I saw was people or foliage. There was nothing to do but shoulder my bag and set off down the lakeside path. Narrow as an animal track, it snaked around between the tree roots, pine needles giving way underfoot to spongy moss. It was this path that kept the perimeter of the lake passable, fulfilling another bylaw of the Tawasentha charter: The shoreline had to be accessible to residents at all times.

I had to admit that up close the yellow of the house was more dignified than from a distance, an ocher shade that was almost Venetian. Stealthy as I was, I still managed to alert the dog, a curly brown terrier, who bounded out from behind the woodpile and bayed stiff-legged by the overturned kayak.

Norma appeared at the ground-level door to see what the commotion was. She stepped out, scolding, “Shhh! It’s okay, Homer. Friend, not foe,” and stood there, looking surprised. “Oh. Hello!”

“Sorry to disturb you.”

“Don’t worry. He’s just showing off. He’s a big baby. Aren’t you, Homey?” She bent to stroke him. The cartoon name sounded strange in Norma’s soft voice.

“I was walking around the lake.”

“That’s nice.” She frowned at the sky. “It’s a good day for it.”

I spotted the bumper of a pickup truck in the driveway. “You must be busy.”

“Always.” She straightened up, grinning her can-do grin, her gray sweatshirt spattered with paint. Today a tortoiseshell headband held her hair back from her face. She looked more self-contained than I remembered. “Want to come in? See what we’re doing to the house?”

Now that my aim was in reach, I said: “Maybe another time.”

“Sure? It’s no trouble. The boys are at my mom’s. I don’t want them around when we’re doing the floors. Some nasty chemicals.”

I shaded my eyes and studied the lake. I did not especially want to enter Norma’s house. Tanner might be in there. I doubted he was, given the unguarded way she was speaking, but even so I did not want to be ambushed by the trappings of happy-go-lucky family life.

“We could have coffee out here,” Norma offered. When I turned back, she bestowed on me such a hospitable smile that I had an urge to say something unpleasant, just to see what it would do to her face.

“Okay.”