The idea of Ann making another appearance the next day, when she would return to pick up Noah, made Poppy’s gut clench. She thought of how they’d all probably lose the house in the end. It could really happen; they’d all have to let go of their grip on the place. She tried to convince herself that was fine.

Don’t attach!

She sang out loud: Sa-ta-na-ma-da-sa sa-say-so-hung. And again, louder, her voice skipping out over the water, rising in the breeze. Brad, the house, Brad, Michael, Ann, Brad.

Sa-ta-na-ma-da-sa sa-say-so-hung!

She was screaming now, and it felt great. Tears ran down her cheeks. She felt something cold against her neck and startled. When she turned, she saw the yellow Lab that had pressed its nose against her. The owner, an older woman in a knit cap and big sweater, wasn’t far back. “Are you OK?” she asked.

“I’m meditating!”

ON HER WAY HOME, POPPY stopped at Carol’s house near Indian Neck. Like her own house, Carol’s had been in her family forever, and, because she shared it with several siblings, nobody had the money or the will to make any major changes to it. Their home, like her own, made Poppy feel like she was stepping back in time.

Carol rented the other bedrooms out to seasonal workers and divided up the proceeds with her siblings. It was a good arrangement, from what Poppy could tell, although now she worried how long it would last. On that morning, she saw it as a delicate balance, just one family rupture away from disaster.

The home was at the end of a sandy stretch of road, a true beach house with a more spectacular view of the water than the Gordons’ home. Cape Cod Bay stretched out on almost all sides. The house was painted white with green trim, and featured a Victorian-style wraparound porch wide enough to accommodate several dilapidated couches. Whenever Poppy came to visit, someone or other always seemed to be on the couch taking in the view, reading a book, checking their phone. On that morning, it was Carol.

“Hey,” Poppy said, making the shaka “hang loose” sign with her hand.

Carol returned the gesture and smiled weakly. “I was going to call you.”

“Ann and Michael got into it last night.”

“I know.” Carol gestured at the cushion next to her. “Have a seat. I need to tell you something.”

Poppy could tell from Carol’s voice that whatever she had to say would be hard to hear. She was grateful she could at least look out at the water. The tide was high now, almost up to the stack of kayaks at the edge of the beach. A red rowboat bobbed up and down in the choppy water. Carol sucked on her vape. As she exhaled, she said, “Michael called me last night.”

“And?”