She knew. It didn’t seem possible, but she knew. In the same way that Emily did.

“Who?” she said simply.

“It’s Liz.” My voice was so quiet it was as though I merely mouthed the words.

Her face fell, and she rubbed her forehead. Judy had a soft spot for Liz, after a long conversation at Emily’s birthday party last spring. We’d rented a bounce house and an inflatable water slide, and Judy brought over face-painting supplies and patiently drew dragons and butterflies on the kids’ faces. Then she and Liz huddled around the jug of peach sangria Liz had brought, getting tipsy and sharing recipes for lasagna. Liz had joked that Judy should come to our next neighborhood wine night, until I asked her if we should also invite her mother-in-law, the WASPy country club queen who called tuxedos “dinner jackets.”

“I’m so sorry,” Judy said. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I rubbed my forehead. My chest felt tight. “Not right now. Maybe another time.”

She shifted in her chair and folded her arms together, and the pressure in my chest lifted. “I hear you’re planning the school carnival this year. Jack seems beside himself with excitement.”

“He is, although I’ve been having some trouble finding volunteers.” I rolled my eyes slightly. “To think, I used to be the one who avoided these kinds of things.” After I struck out with volunteers at Target, I had asked Jess to secure the bounce house and Melissa to coordinate the signage. But they were the whole team so far.

Jack was so looking forward to the carnival, and it pained me to think of disappointing him, but if I didn’t get more help, I didn’t see how it would live up to last year.

She leaned forward. “Well, I’m happy to help if you need an extra pair of hands.”

“Oh, I don’t want to put you out. I—” I stopped as I remembered Emily’s birthday party. I had a willing volunteer in front of me, and I should accept the help. “Actually, would you mind doing the face painting?”

Judy brightened, and without a word, she put her hands on the arms of her chair and lifted herself, her caftan billowing behind her. She held up a finger and went inside. I sighed and took a long sip of my wine, finishing it, and then after a glance over my shoulder, I took a swig out of hers.

I reached for a glass of water on the table to chase down the wine. Except, my hand slipped right through it. Not really through it, but when I tried to grasp and lift it, the glass folded inward like it was made of Saran Wrap, barely a solid object. I retracted my hand in confusion and looked at the clear glass filled with water. It looked perfectly normal.