Glasses, ice, limes, seltzer, bottle: together they carried everything out to the pool and set it up on the small table that sat between two lounge chairs, and Rebecca mixed the drinks. A brief evening shower had driven out the day’s humidity, leaving the air crisp and almost cool. The moon was a pale, distant wafer, and there were a few stars scattered about. From the far edge of the lawn Rebecca could hear the gurgling of the small stone fountain Peter had installed for her for Mother’s Day three years before. He’d been so proud of that fountain—she’d always said she wanted a water feature for the yard. He had wanted to get a little gnome to stand beside the fountain “for good luck,” but she’d thought the gnome was creepy and had put her foot down. Now she wished she hadn’t been such a grump about it. If someone had only told her, “He’ll be dead in less than two years!” of course she would have let him get the gnome.

“This tequila is really good,” said Sherri.

“Have more,” said Rebecca. She’d almost finished her drink already. The danger with good tequila was that it went down clean and easy.

“I have to drive Katie home,” said Sherri. “I really shouldn’t.” She tugged again at her ponytail.

“Just take it out,” suggested Rebecca. “Don’t you get a headache, wearing a ponytail all day?”

Sherri shrugged. “No. Sort of. Yeah, I guess.” She reached up and pulled the elastic out. Her hair fell around her shoulders. It was wavy, like Katie’s, and thick, with no sign of a telltale ponytail bump.

“Your hair is so pretty,” said Rebecca. “How come you always wear it pulled back?”

Sherri grimaced. “Oh, I don’t know. I guess it’s just easier, nothing to mess with.” Because of the way the outdoor lights fell, her face was half in shadow and Rebecca couldn’t read her expression. “My husband really liked my hair, and after—after everything that happened, I just sort of wanted to forget. I wanted to be a different person. I almost cut if off! But I settled for a different look. Does that make sense?”

Interesting, Rebecca thought. “That definitely makes sense,” she said. “That definitely makes sense.” Emboldened by the tequila, she felt like reaching over and wrapping Sherri in a bear hug and telling her that everything was going to be okay. She settled for mixing her another drink. “Did he cheat on you?”

There was a pause, during which Rebecca wondered if she’d gone too far.

“Something like that,” Sherri said finally. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s always complicated,” said Rebecca. “Marriage. Right? What’s that thing Dostoyevsky said, about happy families? ‘Happy families are all alike. Every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.’ The same thing goes for marriages, don’t you think?”