I filled my biggest pot with water and set the burner on high as Cole entered.

“Hello, my saintly mother,” he greeted me, kicking off his shoes and leaving them in the middle of the doorway. His hair was still wet from practice, curls hanging in his face like tentacles. The boys on the team let their hair grow and grow until state championships, dying it ridiculous colors, and then they shaved it all off to reduce drag and be more competitive in the water. This was the best stage, longer but not completely shaggy.

“Oh no,” I said. “What kind of trouble did you get in today? Must be serious if I’m a saint.”

“No trouble.” He went to the refrigerator, took out a can of Coke and salami and cheese, and piled it on the counter.

“What are you doing? Don’t you see I’m making dinner?”

“I’m starving. Ravished.” He unwrapped the salami and stacked a piece of cheese between two slices, then ate it like a sandwich. The dog came bounding down the stairs, looking for love from his favorite person, and Cole slipped him a bite.

At least some of us in this household were happy. At least some of us didn’t have to worry about betrayal and threats to upend their entire lives.

Theresa had been so eager to be friends, right from the very beginning. All those questions about the Ivy Five—I’d thought she’d been insecure, that she just wanted to see how she fit in. She’d mastered the mother-next-door image, all grateful and awed to be here with her perfect husband and daughter. I’d have been lying if I said I wasn’t impressed by how she’d wormed her way into our group.

I’d let her in. Pinned her as one of us.

She’d told me her secrets.

Did she lie about Jackie’s whereabouts? Or did Greg lie to her?

If she lied, what did she have to gain from Jackie being in Europe, unreachable, versus in New York? Did Theresa somehow know Jackie from when she was Greg’s student? Were they working together to threaten us?

But why, Theresa? We’d given her so much. I couldn’t see the connection.

Still, now that Jackie was back in play, everything had changed again. The Queen Bee message loomed once again in my mind as a direct hit from Jackie to me. Jimmy-O—prodded by Pia to get his act together—had asked a friend of his in New York to track her down, based on the information Mrs. Vancavage had given Alice at Full Moon. We needed to talk to her, set things straight. Find out what the hell she wanted.

Jimmy-O said it might take a few days to find her.

We only had two days left.