Marshall saw it, too. “Bree will back you. She’s just sick,” he explained. For all that he’d been so cold, he knew me well enough to know this and to vouch for me. It did my aching heart some good.

“Oh. Nothing serious, I hope?” Now she wasn’t sure what to think.

“Just a bug. But I’m desperate to get home,” I said. “Can we talk next week?”

She glanced at Marshall, and then she smiled, genuine. “Yes. I’d appreciate that.”

I smiled back as best I could. The world refused to stop spinning, and all these things did matter. I simply couldn’t care about them now.

Movement from the green. I looked back to Spence in time to see him double over in a fast, jerky spasm. He looked like a puppet with all his top strings cut. He vomited, violently, splashing Mrs. Clausen’s shoes. She let out a loud cry and stepped back. Behind them the party was a moving backdrop, people turning and shifting, trying to see what was happening.

Gabrielle and Marshall stared, too. She froze, but Marshall started toward them. Lightning fast, my hand shot out and grabbed his arm.

“No!” I said. I should never have given Spencer all three capsules.

Spence straightened, but he could not keep his balance. He went reeling sideways, with Mr. Clausen reaching out almost comically, bounding forward to try to catch him. Spence slammed into the small bar. Bottles tumbled and fell in a chiming of glass on glass, and the bartender scrabbled, trying to catch them and right them.

A great wave of voices welled up from the party, people coalescing and hurrying forward. Spence spun and vomited again in a great, gushing arc that sent the Clausens and the bartender scuttling. It stopped the crowd. Spence staggered sideways, then went crashing to the ground.

A moment of near silence. Even the piano jangled to a discordant stop, the singer cutting off in mid-croon. Then everyone surged forward toward him again.

Mrs. Clausen called out, “Someone help!”

Mr. Clausen yelled, “Who here is a doctor?”

“Oh my God,” Gabrielle said.

Dr. Charles, a longtime client, and another man I didn’t know pushed out of the crowd and ran to Spence. Dr. Charles started barking orders over the hum of anxious voices, telling everyone to stay back.

“I should—” Marshall started.

“Stay with me!” I clutched his arm harder. Gabrielle paused, too.

A few people worked to hold back the others, one man bellowing, “Give the doctors room!”

Spence was thrashing, bucking and seizing, and more vomit spewed up from his mouth. It was brown and red, and red foam bubbled after from his lips. Was that blood? It was so bright against his pale skin, the green grass.

Dr. Charles and the other man turned him on his side to keep him from choking, one of them yelling more words that I couldn’t understand.