But as I followed her downstairs to the laundry room, I knew Alice wasn’t killing me—even if she had killed her husbands. Not at all. In fact, I got the feeling that, in more ways than I would ever truly understand, Alice had saved me.

Charlotte Beach House Rules

A change in scenery has always been able to help me change my mind. If Bill and I were having a fight or I wasn’t feeling my best, a book club meeting could make me forget all about it. Likewise, when I was climbing the ranks of the financial world, no matter what was going on, when Friday at 5 p.m. hit, I felt lighter somehow. Even if I was working through the weekend, nothing felt as serious or as stressful.

So maybe it shouldn’t have shocked me as much as it did that, while sitting on a bistro stool at the counter, sipping Sancerre and watching Grace—whom I had watched cook dinner on Instagram countless times—cook dinner in real life, as Alice helped Iris with her school clothes and I snacked on grapes, I felt slightly less panicked than had been my status quo the past few days. What everyone was saying about my family, how Bill was faring in prison, why our freaking lawyer had failed to return seven of my calls… well, those were problems for someone else to deal with, another Charlotte on another day.

Or maybe it was just that this felt like the Twilight Zone, like my late-night Instagram friend had stepped through the screen and come to life. And now I was getting to know the real Grace.

She was detailing her split with her husband, how he got offered an amazing job in Tokyo and she wasn’t willing to relocate. She added a splash of wine to the risotto pan, making it hiss, and said, “I think if he had stayed here, we would have stayed together. But the fact that he was dead set on moving and I was dead set on staying just revealed a deeper crack between us, this fissure that neither of us wanted to acknowledge. We didn’t hate each other; we just didn’t care.”

That’s when I had to realize that I wasn’t a different Charlotte. I was the same Charlotte. Tears sprang to my eyes. “But, see, that’s the thing,” I said, my voice cracking embarrassingly. “I love Bill so much. And I just don’t think he could possibly do something like this.”

Grace smiled supportively. “So what does Bill say?”

I bit my lip, my face growing warm. “I don’t know because I haven’t gone to see him.” I was bathing in shame. My eyes filled again, and I looked down into my glass so she wouldn’t see.

“Hey,” she said, “this is tough. There’s no handbook. You’re doing your best.”