Kaye nodded. “Of course. I know what you mean. Sometimes I just like being alone, too, but it’s hard, isn’t it? When you have a family?” She’d gone on and on, maniacally, until the doorbell rang. Jillian had come by, rescuing her. After that there was talking, then yelling, mother and daughter yelling—was that what Suzanne had to look forward to?—and then Kaye and the girls had left, leaving the house quiet—a relief.

Suzanne didn’t need a girls’ dorm room and a sorority sister right now. She needed a husband who was willing to step up to the plate, a man she could count on. Instead she had absolutely no idea where he was. Grant had gone AWOL when their baby’s life was at risk. Calls went unanswered, texts ignored.

How was she supposed to do it all? Take care of Adam, fight with the insurance company, make a baby, and work on her business—from a bed? Four months felt infinite. Impossible. She could hardly eke out an entire night.

She felt like calling her mother and crying. Instead she fell into a heavy sleep. She had a vague memory of Kaye bringing in a tray of food. Could that be right? Maybe she’d just wished for that. When she woke up again, her mouth was dry and it was night. The house was quiet except for the sound of a television somewhere. “Grant,” she called. But there was nothing. Desperate, she had called Allison.

“Yoo-hoo,” Allison called. “Yoo-hoo,” Suzanne called back until Allison found her. Allison turned on the overhead light. “This is nice.”

“I want to go home,” Suzanne said, blinking.

Allison held an envelope in front of her. “Check this out,” she said, shaking out a glossy photo.

Suzanne took the picture from the envelope and studied it.

What?

She scrambled to sit upright. It couldn’t be. But it was. It was a boudoir shot of Grant’s friend Marie.

A door flew open somewhere, and someone was running into the house and screaming. Kaye appeared in just her bra and pants, her hair wild, her face red. “Fire!” she yelled. “Fire!”

JILLIAN WAS WASHING HER FACE AT THE BATHROOM SINK WHEN SHE heard the sirens. She turned off the water to hear if they were getting closer or farther away. They were getting closer. “Mom?” she called.

“Sounds nearby,” her father said, from the kitchen.

Her mother ran into the house from somewhere—where?—and grabbed her camera. “Fire!” she called.

“Where?” Jillian cried. “Here?”

“Next door!” she said, running out again.

Jillian and her dad put coats and boots over their pajamas, and hooked Candy up to her leash. It was exciting. Jillian had always wanted to see a fire up close—but next door? It was so near you could feel the heat of it from the yard.

The White Elephant was burning.