Nick looks to me now, waiting for my blessing, I guess. “Dr. Hart? You’re sure I wouldn’t be putting you out?”

My answer is coming, it really is, but Elizabeth gets there first. “Not another word, Nick,” she says. “We’re thrilled to have you. Aren’t we, Robert?” She digs her foot into mine under the table.

“Thrilled,” I say, wincing. “Just thrilled.”

Elizabeth is already up and clearing plates. “Who wants dessert?”

The boys rise to help her make sundaes and plans.

•  •  •

After dinner, once again, I’m read the riot act behind a closed door. Elizabeth takes a hot shower to cool off, but she’s still seething when she crawls into bed with a towel twisted around her head. I let her stir until she finally asks, “What the hell was that?”

“What are you talking about?”

“For Christ’s sake, Bobby. You just behaved abominably to a guest in our home, and you want to know what I’m talking about?”

“Yeah,” I demand, because there’s no backtracking now. “I do.”

“Everyone was uncomfortable—and I’d like to say, ‘except for you,’ or to believe you truly didn’t notice, but only an asshole could be so oblivious, so either you’re an asshole or you’re a jerk. Neither possibility is particularly appealing. That’s what I’m talking about.”

“You can’t turn my house into a hostel without including me in the decision, then expect me not to care.”

Her chill redirects our storm, pointing now to my bigger error—a mistake already expanding, already overtaking any sound argument I might have made tonight. One singular possessive pronoun, one little word misfired, and I’m screwed. “Your house?” she asks.

“You know what I meant.” But the damage is done.

“Well, I guess you meant your house, not ours.”

“Lizzie,” I say, “knock it off.”

“Don’t call me that.” She holds up her hands and steps away when I reach for her. “Don’t touch me, Robert.”

“It’s our house. It’s your house as much as mine, you know that.”

“Great. Then you won’t mind sharing our guesthouse with an orphan who happens to be your son’s best friend. The place will be empty all summer. Nobody’s using it. Did you not hear him say how much this means to him? Where is the problem?”

“Okay.” I aim low. “Do you want to know my problem with him?”

“I’m sure you’re going to—”

“I don’t like him bringing drugs into this house.”

Elizabeth laughs, dismissing me entirely. “What makes you think he brought drugs?”

“I saw them. I watched Jonah leave the guesthouse in a marijuana haze last night.”

With an unnatural calm, she asks, “What do you mean, you watched him?”

“I was sitting by the pool. I watched him stumble out of a hot-box and sneak inside.”

“You were spying on them?”