“I hope you know how much we appreciate you,” Robert said, his face still close enough for me to smell the piquant mint of his breath, one hand on my shoulder. “I hope you know how important you are.”

IT WASN’T LONG BEFORE CARLOW ARRIVED—WALKING THROUGH the front door unannounced. I don’t remember knowing he was vacationing that same week, but it seemed inevitable; of course he was there as soon as we arrived. “You have a house?” I asked.

“I converted a boathouse down the shore into a studio. Made it livable. I get more work done out here than in the city.”

He was excited, bouncing from one foot to the other. What did he have to be excited about? If anything, it would be harder here, to get her alone. Much harder, in fact, with James not working, with Robert around. Is that what excited him? The challenge?

Lonnie, on the other hand, was subdued and cold as she cooked dinner. I blamed it on her father. On the patio, she tossed back two glasses of wine very quickly and said to James, “If we’re going to go through with the party, we’d better start inviting people. It’s already so late.”

“Do you want to?” he said.

She just looked at him, didn’t respond, and instead cursed the big fancy grill.

“He’s so particular about his steak,” she said to me, as if I were somehow judging her. “He always complains when James cooks them.”

The pool had an ethereal look in the late evening twilight, like it might float away at any moment. I ran after William to stop him from coming close to the edge. He was up past his bedtime, overtired and high-strung.

Robert, tumbler of scotch in hand, meandered around the lawn, inspecting the fantastic array of purple and white blooms that surrounded the pool while Lonnie cooked. Whenever I dared to take my eye off William my gaze drifted to him. It was possible that he was a reasonably nice man and she was just immature, of course. Possible she’d just never gotten over the usual teenage resentments, when you had to find something wrong with your parents in order to form your own identity. It was also possible his presence became more overbearing the longer one was around him. I was braced for either possibility, braced to lose a little respect for one or the other.

“The nasturtiums didn’t bloom this year,” Robert yelled across the pool to no one in particular. “My favorites!”

WE ATE AT THE DINING ROOM TABLE THAT EVENING. THE ROOM was larger than the one in Manhattan, and flanked by inlaid mirrors. The chandelier above the table sparkled, and in the reflection, sparkled again.