Amy smiled at Jack’s loving, yet disgusting nickname for Molly. He had called her that since she was four years old and had a runny nose for a solid week.

“Lisbeth’s best friend, Sarah, is in Mom’s class at SCAD.”

“And?”

“Well, Lisbeth brought Sarah home to stay at their house over Thanksgiving. I guess this girl’s family moved or something. Anyway, she came to spend Thanksgiving with the Lowrys. After she met Mr. Lowry, she told Lisbeth that a man who looks just like him was at SCAD one night—with her teacher.”

“And . . . ? I guess I’m missing the point here.”

“Do you think Mom was with Mr. Lowry?”

“Oh, gross, Jack. No way. You heard Mom tell Dad that he’s helping with the island thing. That’s all. She would never . . . that is just not in her to do. That is so . . . beneath her. No way.” Molly’s voice was firm, loud.

“All kids want to think their parents would never—”

“Well, Mom wouldn’t. It’s just not . . . in her to do.”

“You’re right. I mean, I didn’t see anything weird about them at the lake or anything, did you?”

“Absolutely not. Mom is like totally in love with Dad. Who wouldn’t be?”

“Well, they’re coming tonight and I just didn’t want it to be weird or anything.”

“If you’re so sick of Lisbeth, why did you invite her whole family? You gonna ask for her hand or something?”

Amy heard the loud thwack of a pillow.

“Ow,” Molly yelled. They both came running out of the bedroom, Molly with a pillow in hand, Jack with his arms over his head—an expanded, stretched-out version of them when they were two and four years old, wrestling and screaming, but not really wanting any help. They stopped short when they saw Amy squatting on the top step. They looked at each other, then at her.

“What’re you doing, Mom?” Jack asked.

“Picking up the fallen needles from the pine garland.” She lifted a handful of needles, proving her point, then stepped to the landing at the top of the stairs.

“Mom, please, it’s just a Christmas party, not a visit from the president.”

“Ah, you never know who’ll show up at an open house.”

“You better not let anyone upstairs in my room,” Molly said.

“You know how people sneak around,” Amy said. “You better at least make sure your bed is made.”

“I’m locking my door.” Jack walked toward his room.

“So you and Lisbeth can go at it without anybody seeing you?” Molly threw the pillow at him and ran back to her room, Jack chasing her.