“Thanks,” Maja said, walking over. She wasn’t usually a sweets person, but even from a few feet away she could smell the warm scent of cinnamon and apples. The woman handed her a napkin and she plucked a donut from the box.

“We get them once a week from O’Connor Orchard,” the woman said. “Fred lives nearby and picks them up.” She gestured toward a middle-aged guy and he raised a hand in greeting. “It makes commuting a little sweeter,” she said, smiling. “I’m Cathy. Are you new to the commute?”

“New to town, actually,” Maja said. “I haven’t moved down yet. I’m building a house here.” She shook the woman’s hand. “Maja Jensen.”

“Oh,” the woman said, her eyes going wide. “You’re not . . .” She didn’t seem to know how to end her sentence. “Was it your house that . . .”

“Got trashed?” Maja finished her question. “That was us.”

“Oh, honey, I am sorry,” Cathy said. “That’s terrible. I heard that half the high school was there.”

“You’re probably right. Although I don’t know much about what actually happened. I’m sure you’ve heard more about it than I have,” Maja said, shaking her head. “The police keep putting us off. I know it’s tricky, because there are minors involved, but it’s been frustrating. And we haven’t heard a word from the families. No one has come forward.”

Cathy raised her eyebrows. “Well, that I’m not surprised about. My kids are grown and off on their own now, but back when they were at school here, I remember being blown away by the lengths some parents went to. Every kid was special—do you know what I mean? Travel sports teams, private SAT tutors, the works. If parents weren’t happy with a grade, it was never the kid’s fault. They had no problem marching right into school and demanding a retest or whatever they thought they deserved. A lot of the parents work on Wall Street, and they bring home that zero-sum, grab-whatever-you-can mindset. Someone’s kid is going to win, and it better be theirs. If they didn’t get into a prestigious university, it was the end of the world. But do you know what the funny thing is? I swear half of those kids ended up back here after college. No skills to make it in the real world.”

The man who supplied the donuts wandered over to them, and Cathy introduced him. “Fred, this is Maja Jensen. She’s building the house where that party was,” Cathy said. “On River Road. You must have heard about it. Terrible. She’s moving down here from New York.”

The warm smile on Fred’s face seemed to freeze. “Ah,” he said. “Yes. Terrible.”