“Is this her bedtime?” Sarah asked, and Kiki shushed her loudly, shushed her in a way that produced a surge of unwanted anger—fury even—for wasn’t it a bit hypocritical to shush her so loudly? And why should they have to be so quiet? Why? When it wasn’t even dusk—too early for a bedtime!—and when Sylvie obviously was or wasn’t going to wake up but wouldn’t be bothered by noise—not so long as she was conked out on breast milk, her mouth still attached to her mother’s nipple.

Kiki went in the house, Karim and Matthew continued to play with the boys down by the creek, and amid a small property full of people, Sarah found herself alone at a table now laden with snacks and wine. She heard a faraway screech of tires, a closer swarm of yellow jackets, and became engrossed with encouraging a ladybug to crawl from the tablecloth onto her finger. She hadn’t realized Matthew was standing behind her, but she felt his hand on her head and, for whatever reason, she didn’t startle; she didn’t even flinch. His hand felt immediately calming.

“We should just tell her,” Matthew said quietly. “Let’s just get it over with.”

Sarah nodded. “We’ll just get it out of the way.”

The already-familiar screen-door screech announced Kiki again, this time without the baby, and Sarah was reminded of how Kiki always carried herself as though late to a music festival—her hips going, her arms swinging—in a bouncy kind of rush.

“So where’s the proud papa?” asked Matthew.

“Oh, right—I forgot to mention—he’s in the city working. But he’ll be back first thing in the morning.” Then, upon sensing Matthew’s obvious disappointment: “He’s really sorry. It was another last-minute thing,” Kiki said pointedly, to Sarah. “A film.”

“That’s great,” Matthew insisted.

“Being marginally associated with your husband has been personally fulfilling for us,” Sarah said, piercing the cork with the wine opener, twisting and starting to pull. “Do you remember,” she asked Matthew, “how we started freaking out when we saw him that first time?”

“In Reason?” Kiki asked.

“I wish we had a video of our reaction,” Matthew said, nodding. “It was like we’d spotted a unicorn.”

“You were that surprised he was working?” asked Kiki, her smile slightly fading.

“No,” said Sarah, “no! It was just this amazing thing after losing touch, to see him like that—and in that kind of role.”

“No, I get it,” Kiki said. “It just would have been great to hear from you.”

Sarah looked out at the creek beyond the stone wall, the empty wine bottles lined up like art or for target practice. She looked at the flag strung up as a shade. “Who lives there?” she asked, filling the silence.

Kiki shrugged. “Some guy.”

“Have you met him?” asked Matthew, always doing his best.