She didn’t look fine to Ann. She was wilting in her espadrilles. It was hard for Ann to see Maureen like this. It made her feel guilty for fantasizing about Anthony, but wasn’t it better than how she thought about Michael? Her brother? That was wrong, and dangerous, and look what it had already led to. Imagining an encounter with Anthony was fun and harmless. He was a grown man, married, a dad. She liked to imagine she was married to him—they’d drop the boys off with Maureen so she could be their babysitter, while Anthony took Ann to restaurants and ordered her wine and filet mignon and the waitstaff fawned all over them. In her fantasies Maureen was the competition—the wife who didn’t understand her husband, who didn’t meet his needs.

In reality, and at that moment, it seemed it was Maureen who was misunderstood.

“My wife needs some sleep,” Anthony said to Ann without looking at her. “And some water and aspirin.”

“I need many things,” Maureen said. “Sleep is far down the list. A husband who cares about my personal aspirations? That would be right at the top.”

Anthony walked into the kitchen and poured her a large glass of water. He grabbed a bottle of aspirin off the shelf and shook a few into his meaty palm. “I do care. Here,” he said. “Take this.”

“Isn’t he putting on a good show for you?” Maureen said to Ann, her words running together. “It’s always a show.”

“You know all about shows,” he said. “This house, the parties, and now I find out you’re a budding actress…”

Maureen winked at Ann. “I let it slip.”

Anthony spoke in a low, frustrated grumble. “I work night and day so you can have this wonderful life, and now you’re paying a sitter to go off to—”

“Ha!” Maureen said. “You married into this wonderful life, Tony. This wonderful life was my wonderful life. My father gave you your job.”

Ann didn’t want to be in the middle of their argument. Her parents hardly ever fought. “I should get going,” she said.

Maureen pushed her hair behind her ears and straightened her dress. “Good night, my dear. I’m sorry you saw me like this. You come from such a sweet family, I’ll bet your parents never fight.”

“We’re normal.”

Maureen smiled a crooked smile and touched the side of Ann’s face with her skinny hand. “Normal. Listen to you. Don’t you know that ‘normal’ is so lovely and so sweet?” She wobbled backward. “We’re so lucky we found you. You’ve saved our summer. You and dear Michael.” Maureen’s expression changed, like she’d just remembered something. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. Brooks said he saw something peculiar. You and Mich—”

“Brooks loves to make up stories,” Ann said.