Maggie turned and stared at her. Immediately Alice understood she shouldn’t have interrupted, should’ve waited till she and her mom were alone to say something. There was a long silence. So long Charlie even looked up from her iPhone.

Blushing a deep scarlet, Maggie said, “You’re right, sweetheart. I must’ve . . . I must’ve seen it with your father. My goodness, how embarrassing.” She covered her face with her palm.

Susanna Pollard, who was very pretty and much, much younger (and much, much taller) than her ancient, tiny husband, laughed. “It does get hard to keep the spouses straight. Jock here is constantly calling me Meredith. Now, Jock, I forget. Was Meredith wife number three or wife number four?”

“Technically, three,” Mr. Pollard said, “though she was my fourth marriage. I married Yasmin twice.” He waggled his eyebrows when he said Yasmin, which Alice guessed meant she was especially sexy. Gross.

“See what I mean?” Mrs. Pollard said, with a smile. “When people ask which number Mrs. Pollard I am, I always say the last.” She turned to Alice and Charlie. “Girls, if you’re smart, you’ll marry once and marry right. It makes life so much less confusing.”

Everyone laughed, except Alice. And then Richard, without so much as glancing her way, went back to subtly running down Carlo Gianelli, not so subtly promoting himself. Mr. Pollard, Alice noticed, seemed to be growing increasingly receptive to his argument. A few minutes later, coffee and tea were served, and Maggie told Alice and Charlie that they were free to leave the table. She didn’t have to tell them twice.

• • •

“What was that?” Alice whispered to Charlie, as they stepped out of the dining room and into the hall.

“You saw? God, hawk-eye.”

Alice put a hand on Charlie’s arm. “Wait, I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing. What are you talking about? Saw what?”

Charlie took a quick look around, then lifted her shirt, revealing a bottle of red wine stuck in the waistband of her skirt. “And here I thought I’d been so stealth.” She pouched out her lower lip: sad clown.

Alice rolled her eyes. “The wine’s not what I was talking about, though you should put it back. I was talking about mom’s lie about going to Chicago with dad.”

“What makes you think that was a lie?”

“When did mom and dad ever go to Chicago?”

A pause while Charlie searched her memory.

“See,” said Alice, “you can’t think of a time.”

“They did have a life together before we were on scene.”

“Give me your phone. You know, the new one, the one you let Richard buy for you.”