“I’m just saying hello to Dee,” said Polly. “She’s only here for a minute.”

“Give her my love,” said Ned.

The earworm of the morning, thanks to Maude, who was humming in the bathtub:

Bobby Shafto’s gone to sea

silver buckles on his knee.

He’ll come back and marry me,

pretty Bobby Shafto.

Polly paused by the bathroom door a half hour later. If Maude couldn’t get out of the tub, or fell, would she call for help? And if she fell, how long would it take her to recover, to be able to get on a plane? Polly felt a little cold around the gills. She bent closer to the door and heard:

I’m just wild about Harry, and Harry’s wild about me . . .

Maude splashed. “I can hear you looming out there,” she said. “And I’m quite all right.”

Polly retreated. She was passing the stairwell window when a thunk startled her. A ball hadn’t shattered the glass. She looked down at Ned, smiling, and Sam, stricken and clutching a tennis racquet.

“Hey, Rapunzel,” said Ned.

“Hey, what?” said Polly.

“Push down your hair.”

Sam thought this was very funny.

Maude doc appointment

Maude rebook flight?

dinner—Szechuan?

float

There was no getting around the original list: Maude wanted to go on a float; she thought they’d see some birds. What sorts of snacks should they pack? And should they bring wine, or something more assertive? The mind reeled at the possibilities.

Polly headed off to walk the dogs and stop at the restaurant for supplies. In the alley, she paused politely: two rabbits having a standoff, neither of them budging. She honked and they shot into her garden. She hated them, gently, as she drove on to the restaurant, wondering at any deeper meaning.

She was foraging for ice and something edible when Graham entered the kitchen and stood next to her. Polly did not quite scream. She did, however, think, Look, an actual murderer. He seemed larger—was that a trick of his new title, or was it because he was wearing shorts and a T-shirt, and more of him was revealed? The river injuries were fading, but Harry’s marks were iridescent: purple and yellow, a tinge of green. Now the scrapes on his face and throat looked different to her, as if they might have been made by a woman’s nails, and she wondered if his scabbed knees had less to do with saving himself than from raping another human on the shingle.

“You owe me money,” said Graham. “Eleven hours, plus your party.”

She noticed he was holding car keys, and through the window she saw a running Jeep. “Of course,” said Polly.

He followed her into the kitchen, as always, a little too close. Polly waved to an arriving pastry chef. She hated that she was relieved to see someone. “Are you happy to be driving again?”

“Sure.”

“You saved up?”