Poppy glanced at Lisa, whose eyes were hidden behind large sunglasses. Poppy wished she could warn John that serious trouble was brewing between Lisa and Scott, so that John wouldn’t stumble innocently into some question or topic of conversation that would send them all down a dark path. Poppy could still feel anger radiating off Lisa—the air between them crowded and noisy with conflicting and dangerous frequencies. Fortunately, it seemed John would not be sitting near them right at this moment. Still standing, he stretched his back and rubbed his eye sockets with his knuckles and puckered his face in the bright sun. Poppy said, “Did you forget your sunglasses too?”

John nodded. “ ’Fraid so. These pills . . . my friggin’ short-term memory . . . Anyway, I’m gonna go for a swim.”

Poppy was tempted to join him, preferring the thought of John and his easy company to further conversation with Lisa, but she felt it would be better for her to stay and offer Lisa the opportunity to say more, if there was more to say.

Once John was out of earshot, Lisa said, “Should I follow him?”

Poppy was confused. “John? Into the water?”

“No, Scott,” Lisa said impatiently. “Tomorrow, when he goes to ‘golf.’ ” She air-quoted. “Catch him red-handed. I don’t want him to think he can weasel out of this—plausible deniability.”

“True,” Poppy said.

“Or the other option, if I knew I could hold my tongue, I’d just wait until we’re home,” Lisa said. “That would probably be the best way to handle it, because I don’t know how he’s going to react when I bring it up. Depending how the conversation goes, what if he . . . I don’t know, Pop, what if I confront him here, and he drives off and disappears for the rest of vacation? The girls would be . . . For it to happen like that, on vacation . . .”

“You really think he’d fly the coop?”

Lisa mashed her lips together in thought. “Not really,” she said. “But if he did, or if anything happened to upset the girls . . .”

“If he’s cheating, and if the two of you split up, the girls will be upset whether it happens now or ten years down the road. That’s inevitable and it’s not your fault, it’s just life,” Poppy said. She scratched at her itchy scalp through black hair that had become a sun sponge, as hot and greasy as tar.

“I might murder him,” Lisa said, humorless. She ran a finger along her brow, catching delicate tiny bulbs of sweat. In the sunlight, her red hair looked like it had been spun with gold. Poppy marveled at her best friend’s beauty, despite the grim, sickly expression that Lisa now wore.

Lisa turned to face Poppy. “What should I do?” she said in a voice that was suddenly as small and defenseless as the first murmurings of a child.

Poppy was so hot she was finding it difficult to concentrate on Lisa, even in her moment of great need. Her mind had melted to slush. Words swirled. She rubbed her eyes and screwed her face around, trying to force some blood to her brain.