Howard rose from the couch to shake the couple’s hands. No, no trouble at all, he said.

The door was unlocked, the woman said with a coy smile, burrowing her neck into her shoulders.

We got a bit turned around, her husband added.

He keyed ‘Sierra’ into the GPS and I said I think it’s Sequoia, but—She raised and dropped her arms, laughing, but clearly not yet over the irritation. Jo reassured them that it was easy to get turned around in this area.

We were just talking about lightning, Howard said.

Lightning, okay, the woman said, as Jo took the couple’s matching fleece jackets from them. Lightning in what way?

I take it you’re Dr. Bard, the man said, before Howard could answer his wife’s question.

Yes, but please—call me Howard.

The man introduced himself as Tom, and then introduced his wife, Emily. Hello, she said, with a little wave to everyone. Her glossy manicure suggested migrant labour, but her haircut suggested a Republican voting record. She leaned in towards Howard, and motioned to Jo in the entryway—And sorry, can you remind me your daughter’s name?

Jo’s not my daughter.

Oh, pardon me, Emily replied, stricken.

Please, Howard said, gesturing to the empty chairs.

Leslie rose to greet Tom and Emily. I’m Leslie, she said, shaking their hands. Tom cocked his head slightly and said she looked familiar. I’m a real estate agent, she replied, with a stretched smile.

Ah. I’ve seen your lawn signs.

Yup, she said, with a little trilling laugh. I get that a lot.

Jo returned from the front hall as the rest of us introduced ourselves, in turn, to Emily and Tom. To make myself useful, I poured out a few glasses of water from the pitcher on the coffee table and began handing them to anyone who looked like they wanted one. I poured some water into Kyle’s empty glass of ice, and he thanked me without meeting my eyes.

We also have coffee or tea if you’d like, Jo offered.

No, water’s just fine thanks, Emily replied as she took her seat.

I wouldn’t mind a coffee, if you’re offering, Tom said. Just black. Jo nodded and headed for the kitchen.

Oh don’t make her, Emily muttered, you just had one.

Please, that doesn’t count. Tom looked at the rest of us, and, leaning in as if confiding, said Emily kept a French press filled with coffee on the counter for days, and then just heated up cupfuls in the microwave.

It’s very practical, she said with an open face.

It’s savage.

Tom and Emily obviously enjoyed performing the hapless couple. I’ve always wondered about couples who argued and teased each other in front of others. It almost struck me as a perverted form of affection. Mostly, I found it embarrassing.