“He forgot it?”

“You don’t know how he is with this stuff. The fancy gear, that glove, it’s like his thing. Hear me out—I was willing to accept that. The glove. But then . . .” Lisa paused, took a deep breath, and placed her palms out, facing the ground, as though it was moving beneath her and she needed to steady herself. “But then I went to the kitchen to fill up a cooler, and on the kitchen table, near all the brochures and takeout menus and stuff that came with the house, I saw both club passes sitting there.”

“What are those?”

“He got them when we crossed the bridge onto the island yesterday, when we got the parking pass and the golf cart voucher and the fishing voucher. If you plan to golf, they give you the club pass, which you need for admission to the course. Scott got two, one for him and one for John. They would have used them when they played yesterday.”

“OK . . . And?”

“So both passes are still at the house,” Lisa said. “Scott didn’t take either of them.”

“Oh,” Poppy said, understanding now. “Ohhhhh.” She winced. “Yes . . . ,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “If it had been the glove or the pass, it wouldn’t seem like anything at all, but —”

“And the whole thing smelled fishy to me already yesterday,” Lisa said. “When he disappeared with strangers during that storm for well over an hour, left John to sort out the stuff with the cart, I thought that was awfully strange. But I wasn’t going to make a fuss about it. But now this? With all this . . . it’s pretty obvious what’s going on, wouldn’t you say?” Lisa’s white chest was speckled with angry red at the sternum. “He’s cheating on me here, on our family vacation,” she hissed. “Pop, that bastard is with another woman on this very island, right at this very moment.”

Poppy winced again. She reached over to lay her hand on Lisa’s wrist.

Words tumbled from Lisa. “I know I talked a big game yesterday, fine with Scott having an affair, blah-blah-blah. I really thought I was, and I really think I would be, if it wasn’t on this island. I mean, what the hell? Did he make arrangements for his mistress to stay here all week, somewhere across the island? Or is he just, what, picking up local escorts? Hookers, I mean. Prostitutes. How does that work?” Lisa was trembling, and her voice had risen to a volume where Poppy was concerned that it might wake Ryan.

Lisa had tears on both cheeks, dripping to her collarbone.

Poppy swallowed. She held her friend’s hand tightly in her own, then pulled it to her lips and kissed Lisa’s fingers. She whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Before Poppy could say more, her eyes were drawn to the beach, where Kimmy was on her way toward them, shivering and clutching her elbows.