Their conversation made Ann feel like she’d entered into the kind of fake friendship that she had with some of the girls at her high school. Maureen tucked her wild burnt hair behind her ears. It was hot and still. Her forehead and nose were beginning to glisten with sweat. She shook her head, as if to shake an unwelcome thought out of it. “You have such a nice family, which is why I feel so terrible asking you to spend more time away from them. But I’ll be busy the next two weeks. Shhhh!” She put her finger to her lips and winked. “I’m taking an acting class in Provincetown, isn’t that something? Please don’t breathe a word about it to Tony. He thinks actors are kooks. Despite his flair for drama, he has zero appreciation for the stage. And next Saturday we have an oyster party to go to. Could you—”

“Sure,” Ann said. She knew her parents would be upset if she missed out on another weekend with them. “You’re more of a nanny than a babysitter with those hours,” her father had said. “We don’t haul ass halfway across the country so you can spend time with someone else’s family.” But with Anthony around, the Shaws’ house was a lot less boring. His presence was as intimidating as it was enticing. Her memories of that afternoon in the bedroom were on autoloop and took on a fantasy life of their own.

TWELVE

Michael

Heat bore down on the Cape. It hadn’t rained in weeks. The bluestone Jason ordered for Anthony’s patio still hadn’t come in. There was little for Michael to do in the Shaws’ garden aside from watering. Mowing was pointless—dusty and dirty. He tried to stay busy. He snipped away the dead blooms, pulled some weeds, and waited for rain, tending to the garden the way a security guard might watch over a business that had closed for the night.

Jason told Michael he could go home, but he stuck around. Even without pay, it was nice at the Shaws’ with Maureen out of the picture. Anthony was gone, too, in Los Angeles for business. Michael was temporarily free of worry that he’d drop in the way he did—unannounced, hovering at the edge of the yard, critical of every little thing.

With just Ann and Michael around, he felt like he and Ann were playing house, as if they were married. He imagined that the garden he tended was for them, and the Shaws’ nerdy boys were their nerdy boys. Maureen had become so preoccupied with her acting classes that she hadn’t made plans for them. Suddenly the boys were always underfoot, bored, seeking Michael’s attention.

“I don’t know what to do with them,” Ann said.

“Let’s take them to Mayo Beach.”