“It’s no problem at all,” she says. She doesn’t really need the money she gets from babysitting, but she gets lonely. Her husband George is gone (a stroke turned him off like a light four years ago) and her own kids never visit.

She enters the house. It’s nicer than hers, at least on the inside. Fresh paint and new hardwood floors, and furniture that looks like it’s right out of the shrink-wrap.

Over in the corner, there is a small child playing with blocks, the kind that she bought for one of her grandsons last Christmas. He’s a little boy. Practically a baby. He reminds her of her own son, who was also so pretty. You’re not supposed to use that word for boys, but it certainly fits. He snaps and clicks the blocks together with a quiet intensity, not looking up as Kirk closes the door behind Marianne.

“That’s Jeremy,” Kirk says, very quietly, as if he doesn’t want to disturb the child. “Susan,” he calls up the stairs. “Are you ready?”

The wife comes down, pulling at her hair, fussing with her dress. She is pretty (although Marianne would probably not have chosen a dress that tight), but she looks rushed and worried. She glares at her husband. “I’m not sure about this,” she says, and there’s a tone in her voice.

Marianne smiles. “Oh, I know how it is. You don’t want to leave your little one. But I promise, everything is going to be fine. You go out and have a nice time. Parents deserve a little space.”

The woman looks at her blankly, then at her husband, who takes her by the arm and pulls her toward the door. She yanks her arm away, not gently, and turns toward the boy.

“Jeremy,” she says. The husband winces. Maybe he’s trying to avoid a scene. But he doesn’t stop her. “We’ll be back soon. Marianne is going to look after you. Please be good.”

She sounds like she’s begging. The little boy looks up at her. It almost seems like he’s going to laugh at her.

But then he goes back to his blocks.

“Come on,” Kirk says to her, and this time, she lets him guide her to the door.

“We’ll be back in a few hours,” he says to Marianne. “We just have to sign the mortgage papers, and you know — kids, in a bank. We won’t be long at all. Let him play by himself. He’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure we’re going to have lots of fun,” Marianne says, but Kirk has already closed the door on her.

Well. Perhaps they are not the happiest couple. The wife definitely seemed to be angry at the husband over something, and neither of them bothered to hug or kiss their child. They practically ran out the door.