The family’s large villa was at the top, overlooking the resort and the lake at its feet. Leah’s eyes went straight to the second-floor balcony where Amy used to sit with her headphones on, music crashing in her ears, her parents barking at her to “get changed or get inside” if she wasn’t wearing acceptable clothes. She would often text Leah from that spot, describing clouds and birds, the music she was listening to, whether the lake looked choppy or calm. Now the balcony was deserted. Even the orange deckchair she used to sit in was gone. Leah battled to get a grip as they left the buggy and Olivia exchanged a few words with the driver. Then they were walking between the thick white pillars of the villa’s entrance, stepping into the abrupt coolness of its terra-cotta hallway. Passing from sun into shade, Leah was momentarily blind. It was only as her vision adjusted that the tall, slim figure of her sister took shape.

Charlotte flung out her arms, bracelets clinking. “Lee!”

Her hug was so effusive that Leah stiffened inside it—then, seconds later, was overwhelmed by guilt. How could she not have come sooner? The scent of her sister’s skin and hair bombarded her. Exotic fruits, wildflowers. She used to have a theory that Charlotte’s bouts of flightiness were a side effect of too much heady perfume, but that felt unkind now. Charlotte was just Charlotte. Her ability to detach from the world and then snap back was enviable, in a way. Necessary, perhaps. And Leah had failed to be there when she’d needed her most.

“How have you been?” she asked tentatively, drawing back.

“Busy!” Charlotte twirled her manicured hands. “Summer season madness. Aren’t you boiling, Lee? All covered up as usual!”

Leah blinked and didn’t respond. Charlotte floated into the main part of the villa with Olivia in her wake. Taking a breath, Leah followed. At some point, without her even noticing, her luggage had been taken from her and presumably—hopefully—deposited inside. She felt naked without her laptop bag—repurposed as hand luggage—bumping its familiar weight against her hip. She was used to being laden down with client notes, hefty contracts, articles on copyright law that were interesting to almost nobody but her.

Now she watched her sister’s natural sashay and well-cut linen dress, her fluttering necktie in orange and gold Il Mandarino stripes. They passed through several high-ceilinged rooms that never seemed to get used, into the heart of the villa. Even there it was almost magazine-centerfold tidy, with neutral colors and hard glossy surfaces, but there were signs of couches having been sat on, coasters having hosted drinks. As Charlotte and Olivia went to fetch refreshments, Leah glanced around, wary of Gordon emerging from a side room and taking her by surprise.