Lisa could see in Scott’s face that he was already trying to work up some reason to shoot down the idea. She repeated, “I’ve always wanted our two families to connect.”

“We’ve tried,” Scott pointed out. “You’ve invited them to things before.”

Lisa lowered her voice, even though there was no one else in the kitchen. “That’s because they can’t afford the things we do. Poppy’s too proud to admit it, she’ll always come up with some other sort of excuse, but I know that’s why she didn’t take us up on the cruise or the Disneyland weekend or Toronto. But a trip like this, all expenses paid, plenty of time in advance to ask for the time off . . . I think they might actually be in a position to accept the invitation. Anyway, Poppy’s been my friend since I was five years old,” she said. “We barely get any time together anymore.”

“You talk on the phone all the time since your mom got sick,” Scott said. “You talk to Poppy twice as much as you talk to me.”

Lisa wondered if this was true. It was possible. Well, Lisa enjoyed talking to Poppy twice as much as she enjoyed talking to Scott, it was as simple as that.

Scott said, “I know Poppy’s your oldest friend and she’s done a lot for your mom, but staying in the same house with her for four days? Poppy can be . . . a lot.”

“Sure,” Lisa conceded. Poppy was a lot. She had strong opinions on absolutely everything, and she could be moody and unpredictable. She never asked before touching dogs, or babies.

Scott fingered his goatee. “And his drinking can get a little out of hand. Right? Do you remember the year we went over the day after Christmas? You remember. John had a few too many, and with all the kids around.”

Lisa exhaled through her nose. Amazing how quickly a good idea or a good mood could be deflated these days. It could happen in the space between an inhale and an exhale. She ran a hand over the marble-topped island before her to check for dust; there was none. She gazed at a pattern of black veins in the marble that resembled gorges on a map, and felt that familiar murky and listless melancholy surging inside, threatening to overtake her.

Scott said, “Anyhow,” and Lisa waited for more, but that was it, he was back to his computer.

Eventually, Lisa said, “If you don’t want to invite them, I won’t. But I’d prefer if you didn’t try to come up with all these excuses, like they’re to blame. Don’t make it like you’re all of a sudden . . . well, concerned about John’s drinking, for example.”

“You’re not? I’ve heard some of the conversations you’ve had with Poppy.” Scott’s black, triangular eyebrows arched high.

Lisa blinked, surprised by this. “So you eavesdrop while I’m on the phone with my friend and use our private conversations as ammunition not to spend time with her family? That’s nice of you.” Lisa wound a thick chunk of her red hair into a rope and tossed it back over her shoulder. “But since you brought it up, it’s not alcohol Poppy’s worried about. John had surgery on his back a year or two ago and still has a lot of pain. They’re trying to work out the right medications to keep it at bay. It’s under the close watch of his doctor and they’re trying to work it out. But thank you for your concern. Well meaning as ever.”