I couldn’t think of an excuse, other than the fact I was sweating, not wearing any makeup, and sporting a T-shirt that asked for tequila, so I complied. As we walked through the house to the back door, the music grew louder. It wasn’t any song I recognized, and I caught a lyric that went, “When the End of Days arrives / I will be by your side.”

I didn’t know they made pop songs about the apocalypse.

Melissa was outside, seated on her blue-and-white outdoor sectional, clutching a glass of iced tea and frowning at a well-dressed couple across from her. Her kids were jumping on the trampoline in a corner of the yard. She did a double take when she saw me, and then her body froze.

I’m so sorry, I know this is your worst nightmare. It could be worse, I could have brought Jess.

“Look who I found,” Tony said as he clapped his hands together. He turned to me. “Iced tea? Virgin, of course,” he laughed.

Melissa shook her head, and I did the same. “Oh, no thank you. I just stopped by to tell Melissa something, but it can wait. Really. I had totally forgotten you have company.”

Melissa’s parents rose from the couch in unison. Her mother was dressed in black capri pants and a short-sleeved floral shirt. Her hair was a blond lightbulb around her head, and against her chest was a gold necklace with Protected written in cursive. Her father wore a blue golf shirt and khaki pants and looked like he had just made a donation to an Ivy League school to get his son admitted after he was busted for underage drinking.

“I’m Patricia,” her mother said. “And this is my husband, Joe.” Her drawl was more pronounced than Melissa’s, and she extended a hand, her wrist jangling with three charm bracelets. Her gaze fell down to my T-shirt, and her drawn-in eyebrows knitted together.

“Amy Foster. I live around the corner,” I said. I flitted my hands around like an injured butterfly. “So nice to meet you. I really should be going.”

“Please, we insist. We have never met any of Melly’s friends since she moved here.” Patricia gave my arm a squeeze and practically threw me toward the couch.

Melly? I mouthed to Melissa, who shot me a look fiery enough to melt plastic.

“Now, Amy, tell us about yourself. How many children do you have, which church do you attend here in Winchester . . . those kinds of things,” Joe said as he leaned backward and clasped a hand around his bent knee.

I looked at Melissa, who slowly closed her eyes.

“I have two children.” I sat with my back straight and smiled at them. They stared at me expectantly. “Oh, I’m not very religious, I . . .” I trailed off when I saw Melissa lean back and slump her shoulders forward.