“What?” I ask, blindsided, as she gets to her feet. “You’re in therapy?”

“I’m in therapy. And I wanted you to know, but I also don’t want to talk about it yet, so I’m going to the bathroom and then we’re going to change the subject when I get back.”

I stare at her, confused. “Why did you want me to know?”

She looks supremely uncomfortable. “Because I’ve talked about you a little, and she asked me to tell you that her door’s open if you want to try it out, too. And I think you should.”

I can’t help laughing at the absurdity of her delivery. “That’s the most polite way I’ve ever been told to get help.”

“I mean it. We went through a lot last year, and it’s helping me. Plus, it’s free.”

“Well, if it’s free,” I joke.

Molly is blushing bright red at this point, looking as though she’d rather be anywhere but here. I wave her off. “Fine. Go. I won’t ask you about your therapy sessions.”

“Thank you. Come to therapy.”

“I definitely will not,” I call after her, and she shakes her head as she walks.

Alone, I take the opportunity to drink in my surroundings. I haven’t touched a drop of alcohol, of course—even though I do mostly trust the students here, as they’ve never once shared any compromising photos or videos of me over the past several years despite a plethora of opportunities, it’s tempting fate enough to be seen at a party at all. If I was caught with a drink in my hand, I would honestly deserve any headlines that resulted. If it weren’t Florence’s party, I wouldn’t have risked attending at all.

As I scan the room, I notice Eleanor sitting on a nearby couch, drink in hand, talking with Santi. When on earth did that happen? And who is Danni with, then?

I text Molly to let her know I’ve deserted our post, and I take a circuitous tour of the house, with Theodore following me at a distance. I hope Danni has found someone to speak to. I didn’t expect Eleanor to end up otherwise occupied—and, of course, Eleanor was unaware that she was in charge of keeping Danni company while I can’t. If I’d noticed earlier, I would have sent Molly to accompany Danni, and taken myself off elsewhere.

Danni is nowhere to be found in the living room, or the kitchen. Not the hallway, nor the line for the downstairs bathroom. She’s not in the movie theater room, where a slideshow of Florence’s childhood photos is playing on the projector, and she’s not in the coat room.