She nodded, unexpectedly excited that he was playing her game.

“You have a baby.”

She felt herself nodding. “Wait, how did you guess that?”

“Boy or girl?”

“Girl. Eight months.”

“You sure bounced back.”

A bird made a sudden racket in the trees; she looked up at the last moment of flapping wings and disrupted leaves. A twig fell to the ground. He seemed perfectly comfortable looking straight at her and—for the moment—not saying anything more.

“I saw you last night,” he finally said.

“You saw me? When?”

“You were outside with your friends. And then with your husband in the middle of the night.” His tone went more serious. “To be honest, I’d started to wonder if you really existed. I mean, I’d never laid eyes on you before then.”

“Before—?”

“I’m in the house across the creek,” he finally explained. “I’m just camping out here for a night or so. I came to watch the sunrise.”

Her mind started racing but landed on the fact that he was the neighbor with the flashlight, the flag. She remembered that Kiki had never met him.

“Wow,” she said. “Right. Sometimes I have trouble sleeping. I mean—”

“The baby.”

She nodded. She wanted to ask if he had kids, but she had sworn she would never ask anyone that question ever again.

“You’re renting the McCann house.”

She didn’t answer.

“Let me guess: The two of you wanted to get away from the city. You wanted something cheaper, some country livin’. New baby and all.”

Despite his sarcasm, despite, obviously, none of this being true, she resumed nodding.

“What’s the baby’s name?”

She shook her head. Not that.

“Oh, come on, neighbor. What’s the name?”

“Do you live here? Here in the woods?”

He shook his head. “I got a house. I just told you that.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t catch if you actually lived there or were, you know, maybe visiting?”

“No, it’s my house.”

“Oh, okay. That’s funny then, right? I mean, that’s a coincidence.”

He shrugged. “Summer.” As if that explained anything.

“Summer’s over. Though you’d never know it.”

“I don’t like the heat. You?”

“I don’t mind it. I prefer heat to cold.”

“Do you now?” He laughed.

“Yeah, I do.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Why?”

“I just bet you look cute in a snow hat.”

“Um”—she blushed—“not at all. I don’t have a good hat face. My features are too small.”

He shook his head. “Anyway, that’s when I come here.” He looked at her straight on. “You know, when it’s hot. I like to hide out a bit.”

She realized she’d been standing stock-still. Her knees were hyperextended. Her legs were aching. “I’m hiding, too.”

“Is that right?”