“It might be better if you didn’t try to make up for any more of that lost time during working hours.”

Amy rinsed out a mixing bowl. “I guess. It’s just so hard.”

“The slave driver will probably be checking up on you today, so why don’t you get the bedrooms done as soon as you’re finished here?”

“Yeah …” She sighed. “If you see Troy outside, will you like tell him I love him and everything?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s immature. My sister says I should be a little more standoffish or he’ll take me for granted.”

Molly remembered the adoration on Troy’s youthful face. “I don’t think you have to worry about that yet.”

Kevin had disappeared by the time Molly was done in the kitchen, probably tending to his hangover. She made iced tea, then phoned Phoebe to tell her where she was. Her sister’s confusion didn’t surprise her, but she couldn’t explain how Kevin had blackmailed her into going with him without revealing too much about her physical and emotional condition. Instead, she just said that Kevin needed some help and she’d wanted to get away from the city. Phoebe started clucking just like Celia the Hen, and Molly got off the phone as quickly as possible.

She was tired by the time she finished baking Aunt Judith’s citrus Bundt cake for afternoon tea, but she couldn’t resist sprucing up the parlor a little. As she filled a cut-glass bowl with potpourri, Roo began barking. She went outside to investigate and saw a woman emerge from a dusty burgundy Lexus and turn to gaze out over the Common. Molly wondered if Kevin had checked the computer to see if any new guests were arriving. They needed to get better organized.

Molly took in the woman’s oyster-white tunic, bronze capris, and sculpted sandals. Everything about her was stylish and expensive. She turned, and Molly immediately recognized her: Lilly Sherman.

Molly had met a lot of celebrities over the years, so she was seldom awed by famous people, but Lilly Sherman made her feel starstruck. Everything about her radiated glamour. This was a woman accustomed to snarling traffic, and Molly half expected some paparazzi to jump out of the pine trees.

The stylish sunglasses on top of her head held the rich auburn hair that had been her trademark away from her face. Her hair was shorter than it had been in her days as Ginger Hill, but it still had a sexy, tumbled look. Her complexion was pale and porcelain-smooth, her figure voluptuous. Molly thought of all the girls she’d known with eating disorders that had left them cadaverously thin. In earlier times women had aspired toward Lilly’s figure, and they’d probably been better for it.