Melissa leaned back and closed her eyes again. “Heather had her kitchen redone and wants to show everyone. The invitation called it an ‘unveiling.’ ”

“So it’s like a gender reveal party, but for appliances? I wonder if the stove will shoot pink and blue confetti at everyone.”

I wasn’t surprised that only Melissa had received an invite. Heather generally dismissed our group but was strangely drawn to Melissa, likely because she had the best clothes and the biggest house. Money talked with Heather, which is why she was unbothered by the fact that her husband unironically wore brightly colored Crocs. His extensive family money gave him carte blanche to dress like a circus clown. As if that weren’t enough, he also had a “Salt Life” decal on his BMW.

Melissa smirked in reply, her eyes still closed.

I tucked my feet up on the chair and wrapped my arms around my shins. “Such a fun night last night, and sounds—literally—like we will have a clubhouse soon.” I cocked my head, remembering. “Although, that moment when we toasted, we all had that weird feeling. Hopefully it wasn’t a sign of bad karma or something.” I laughed.

She opened one eye. “Don’t be ridiculous. The wind blew. We’d all had a few drinks by then, so I don’t exactly trust our recall or reactions.”

“True. I can always count on you to be the sensible one,” I said.

“Occam’s razor. My life motto. Well, adult-life motto,” she said. Melissa’s parents had told her that things that go bump in the night were real, that Satan was lurking around every corner, waiting to influence someone. That life should be lived with a healthy dose of fear of all things unseen. After she left Ohio and her parents’ church and had actual life experiences that didn’t involve spying on the neighbors to see if they were pagans, her worldview changed: the simplest, most rational explanation is usually the correct one.

I looked across the yard to Emily, who was ripping grass out of the front yard that we had meticulously resodded twice over two years, due to clay soil. Heather’s HOA made sure to let us know that our yard needed “maintenance.” I didn’t want the kids to destroy what had taken so long to grow, but the backyard had a red ant nest that I still needed to clear out.

“Can you use your stern vice president voice and make that stop?” I said.

“No. That’s only for—” Melissa started to say before she was cut off by a high-pitched screech. The kids in the yard stopped and put their hands over their ears as I winced. Then all the construction noise from around the corner halted.

“The hell was that?” I said, looking around.