“Of course I don’t. I know you did this. You’ve made it quite clear that you don’t want me here.”

Blaire stuck her chin out. “I bet you did it, just so you could blame it on me.”

“Listen to me, Blaire. You may have your father bamboozled, but not me. You don’t have to like me, but I won’t tolerate disrespect or lying. Do you understand?”

Blaire said nothing, and the two stared at each other. Finally, Enid said, “Go on. Get out of here.”

Any time anything happened after that, Enid had blamed Blaire. Her father’s devotion transferred from Blaire to his new wife; he had done nothing to defend his daughter, and it wasn’t long before she hated going home and did anything she could to avoid it. It turned out to be a blessing that they had sent her away—living with Enid for over a year had been more than enough for Blaire. She went home for the summer after eighth grade, but in her second year at Mayfield, Lily had invited Blaire to spend the summer with them at their beach house in Bethany, Delaware. She was sure that her father wouldn’t allow it, but Lily made one phone call and it was all arranged.

Blaire fell in love with the house the first time she saw it—the cedar-shingle dwelling had white decks and porches that stood out against the dark wood, as did the pure-white trim of the large paned doors and windows. It was so different from the boring colonial she’d grown up in, where the rooms were dull rectangles and all the furniture matched. The beach house was filled with breezy white-walled rooms, and big windows that looked directly at the ocean. Soft floral sofas and chairs were strategically placed so the view could be enjoyed while still sitting in cozy groups. But the most intoxicating things were the sound of the crashing waves and the air that smelled of the sea as it floated through the open windows. She’d never seen such an amazing house.

Kate had taken her hand and led her upstairs. There were five bedrooms, and Kate’s, a large room next to the master, was painted a pale sea green. French doors led to a small balcony overlooking the beach. All the linens were white––the canopy over the bed, curtains, chair cushions—except for the comforter, which was a bright pink with mermaids embroidered all over it. The walls were decorated with mermaid pictures, and mermaid figurines lined one of the bookshelves. Kate’s name was even spelled out above her bed in sparkling blue sea glass. Kate had everything—two parents who gave her whatever she wanted, including this beach house. Suddenly Blaire couldn’t breathe, the loneliness and emptiness of her life closing in on her like a vise.

“Your room is great,” she’d managed to say.