“The one and only,” said Cam. “Well, not the one and only because that would be the real Dave Matthews. But close enough!” Dave Matthews was one of Alexa’s mother’s favorite artists. When she had more than one glass of Cabernet, she’d been known to play “Crash Into Me” on repeat at an excessively loud volume. Since Peter’s death she did that a little more often than she used to. Rebecca and Peter had seen Dave Matthews together live three times. Even Morgan liked Dave Matthews! Somehow the gene for that had skipped Alexa. Maybe the Dave Matthews gene was recessive and her biological father hadn’t passed it on to her: another reason to feel left out. Maybe it was the same as the nice gene.

“Um,” she said. “I don’t know . . .” She scoured her mind for an excuse but came up empty. The truth was, Caitlin’s tidbit about Tyler had put her in a tailspin. Her mother was going out “with the ladies,” which probably meant early cocktails and fish tacos at the Deck. Even Morgan had plans—she was sleeping over at Katie’s house.

“I will brook no refusal,” Cam said. “And I’ll have you home before you turn into a pumpkin. I’m the lector at the seven am mass tomorrow at the IC. I need to get my beauty sleep.”

Was. This. Guy. For. Real. A church lector at Immaculate Conception? “Okay,” she said. “I guess if you’re not brooking refusal I can’t refuse.”

“It’s a date!” he said. “Where should I pick you up? Home, or work?”

“Home,” she said. “I’m off today.” She would wear her new Ramy Brook tank top in bright blue, which brought out the color of her eyes. She’d bought it for two hundred and eighty-five dollars at Neiman Marcus online. When her mother complimented her on it, she claimed that she got it at Marshalls, marked down 75 percent, even though anybody who knew anything knew that you would never find Ramy Brook at Marshalls.

She would have only one drink. Maybe two drinks. She would behave herself even though her mind was full of chaotic, unsettling thoughts.

When they were in the minivan, driving up 1A (Cam had chosen the coastal route, which Alexa appreciated even though the highway would have been faster), Alexa broached the subject of Shelby McIntyre. As it turned out, Shelby had left two days earlier on a service trip to Kenya with Newburyport Youth Services. “This will be the fourth year in a row she’s done it,” said Cam. He shook his head and smiled, as if he could not believe the marvel that was Shelby.