Monday morning arrived in a pale haze, the kind of light that made everything look unfinished. Karen let herself into Beth’s house with the spare key she’d been given months ago for emergencies. This seemed to qualify. The living room smelled of stale wine and something else, despair, maybe. Or just neglect. Two empty wine bottles stood sentry on the coffee table beside a plate with the crusts of a peanut butter sandwich....

The knock came at noon. Three sharp raps that made Beth's coffee mug pause halfway to her lips. She wasn't expecting anyone. The kids were still at Toby's. Her scheduled session with Karen wasn't until seven. She padded to the door in bare feet. Through the peephole, Karen stood on the porch. Immaculate in fitted jeans and a light blouse. Her expression unreadable. Beth's stomach flipped. She opened the door, aware sudden...

By two p.m., the neighborhood was a grid of heat, the air thick with cut grass, sunscreen, and the smokey haze of barbecue. At the far end of the block, three houses down from Beth’s, the white ranch house with perfect black shutters presided over a rectangle of turquoise pool. The only relief was found in the intermittent shade cast by a row of maturing birches, leaves silvered by the sun. Even the bugs seemed too lethar...