“Hoffman, wait. I don’t understand. What are you trying to tell me?” I’m sure it’s clear to everyone that Betsy is flirting with Bo, the teacher. Not that it’s okay, but I did it. There isn’t anything horrible about it, not in the long run. It won’t even matter in two days. Everything will change. It’s funny, all this year I thought she was dating Josh. I’m surprised she is so tricky. I’m on to you now, Betsy dear.

Hoffman is sweating and he really wants to leave. I block the front door so he can’t.

Hoffman adds, “I’m sure this mom has blown it all out of proportion.”

“I’ll speak to Betsy. As far as I know, she’s focused on graduation, and she should be. It’s a struggle for her, school is. Not like Mary.”

I open the door and follow Hoffman through the courtyard and he stops with his hand on the gate. He turns and smiles. “And, Jane, you look good. I hope Mr. Harris realizes what a lucky guy he is.”

I touch his chest quickly with my finger, a test, a tease. “Why, thank you.” My face flushes. This is a role I was born to play.

Hoffman takes a deep breath and nods, pulls open the gate and hurries down the stairs to his golf cart. He yells, “You and David should come to the tennis mixer this weekend. We miss seeing you.”

Was that a cover for eavesdropping neighbors? I scan the street and I don’t see anyone watching us, but I know they are. Unlike me, those tennis team women are ruthless and always jealous if Hoff pays more attention to one over the other. They watch him like a hawk. That’s why Hoffman pretended he was simply dropping by to talk about tennis at the house of grief and loss, that’s all. I force a smile. I try to sound bubbly. Mary would be pleased. “We’ll try to be there. Thanks, Hoff!”

He grins back, relieved by my lie, waves and drives off.

I’m left alone trying to imagine David and me on the tennis court as partners again.

It’s hard to picture.

I close the gate and grin. Hoffman was putty in my hands. I’ve so missed playing the role of femme fatale. It’s fun to be back. But I can’t afford distractions, not now. I need to spend more time watching Betsy. Just when I thought my youngest daughter was simply depressed, focused on school, dating loser Josh, I learn the opposite.

Betsy’s been playing me. Who knew she was clever underneath all of that anger and despondence? She’ll face the consequences soon enough. If she’s been deceiving me, hiding things from me, it will be much worse for her. Much worse.