“Hi, Randall.” Her voice was breathy, shy.

  “Lacey. Hi.”

  “You said we might get together for a drink—”

  “I don’t—”

  “But I thought you might prefer to come here for dinner instead. I’ve made lasagna.”

  Lacey’s lasagna was as delicious as she was; Randall could remember that so clearly he could almost smell the spicy tomato sauce and feel the plump cheese on his tongue. There’d be a freshly tossed green salad, too, and a healthy tart dessert with oranges or apples.

  “Lacey—”

  “Just come for dinner. No strings attached. I mean it.”

  “I won’t be able to stay long.”

  “I understand.”

  “I’ll pick up some wine on the way.”

  “Great.”

  All of a sudden, late Friday afternoon, Anne found herself without appointments. It was an unpleasant sensation, like stepping off the solid ground into open air. Like falling.

  In the privacy of her study, she reviewed her calendar. Today had been exhausting, one meeting after another, beginning at seven a.m. with a Land Conservation executive board meeting, ending with a grueling course on building a computer database. The whole week, actually, had been jam-packed with engagements, and tomorrow she would begin going door-to-door, introducing herself, handing out her brochures, personally asking people for their votes.

  When she’d worked on her schedule with Rebecca, she’d insisted on leaving this evening open. Now she wondered why.

  Usually, on Friday as well as Saturday evenings, she had at least one cocktail or dinner party to attend. But now it was the middle of August, when most of her acquaintances were off in summer homes on the Vineyard, or in Maine, or Nantucket.

  Nantucket. Her mother would fill every spare room in the Nantucket house with immigrants, leaving not even one bedroom free so that Anne and Tessa could visit. Sarah had always been generous to the most obviously distressed, completely overlooking any needs her own normal daughter might have, and Anne’s father, engrossed in the eccentricities of his own life, let Sarah rule the household. When hurricanes destroyed Florida towns, Anne’s father flew down to help rebuild. Whenever a task force was formed to help assuage the ravages of a drought in Tunisia or a dictator in Africa, Anne’s father rushed to take part. Both Sarah and Arthur reacted to the astonishing amounts of money they’d inherited by dashing all over the globe to help other people, feeling that it was absolutely the least they could do. They were a wonderful, liberal, magnanimous couple who received the admiration and gratitude of many.

  As parents, they were strangely aloof. Anne was so exceedingly healthy, pretty, intelligent, and fortunate in every way that they could hardly bring themselves to have any interest in her at all. Of course, they never would have put it quite that way, but that was the way it had always felt, and still felt, to Anne.

  “Mother,” she’d asked at the beginning of this summer, “why didn’t you leave bedrooms for me and Tessa? Or at least one bedroom. Don’t you want us to visit?”

  “Of course we do,” Sarah shot back. “Don’t be silly. But you can afford to stay in a hotel. And you must admit you can’t come down very often, not with the campaigning you’ve got to do. It would be a terrible waste to keep one room empty just in case you wanted to use it for a few days scattered over the entire summer, when the room could be put to more worthwhile use. It will make the difference in someone’s life, and in their family’s lives as well.”

  Anne agreed with her mother intellectually, but secretly she felt slighted, resentful, even angry. She’d thought Randall’s desertion would arouse some kind of protective sympathy in her mother’s heart, but not so. Apparently a divorce was not a grand enough tragedy. She’d imagined that her campaign for state representative would draw her parents’ attention and admiration. She’d envisioned discussing strategies with her parents, and goals to work toward. But her representation of her district, healthily although not stunningly prosperous in its quiet way, was obviously not crucial enough to lure their eyes her way. Not that she was doing all this simply to gain her parents’ respect. She wanted to do this kind of work, she believed in it with all her heart and soul, and she would attempt with every dram of energy in her constitution to make a difference in the world, whether her parents ever noticed or not.

  It would be just a bit nicer if her parents noticed.

  What made it all even worse was Randall’s announcement that he was going to live with his father. How much more clearly could Randall announce that his father cared for Tessa, while Anne’s parents scarcely remembered she existed? Now he could inform the judge that there would be, in his home, two adults to care for Tessa, and both of them physicians. Furthermore, Mont was retired. He would be at home, all the time, he would be a parent available at any moment, no matter how busy Randall was. While Anne had only Carmen to act as another adult in the home, and Carmen, of course, had her own family who came first in her affections and in her priorities, no matter how much she might care for Anne and Tessa.

  She had to find a way to offset the advantage Mont would provide Randall as caregiver. She had to think. Think.

  For one thing, it couldn’t be good that both Randall and Mont were men, when Tessa was female. Surely a twelve-year-old girl needed to be with a female parent more than with a male. Yes, that was the tack to take. And furthermore, Mont was old. Perhaps not senile, not yet, but perhaps not altogether capable these days, especially with the recent death of his beloved wife. She ought to investigate this. She ought to pay Mont a visit. Mont had always liked her, or at least he had seemed to, while Madeline had been, Anne felt, a bit cool. A bit judgmental. Well, more than that, really—there had been times when Anne and Madeline had argued rather fiercely over the way Madeline let Tessa play with her filthy animals in that filthy barn. Anne hadn’t been at all sad when Madeline died. If anything, she’d felt relief.

  But Mont liked her. Mont was a kind and reasonable man. Anne would visit him sometime, sometime when she knew Randall wouldn’t be around to interrupt them. Perhaps she could even persuade Mont to be on her side about this child custody matter. It wouldn’t hurt to try.

  Anne adjusted and aligned the objects on her desk a final time. She stared at her empty appointment calendar and quiescent answering machine as if the sheer force of her desire would make writing appear on the page and spur the red light into furious blinks. The house was as quiet as death all around her.

  Still, she felt better. She’d made some good decisions. She would shower; then she’d take Tessa to a movie. They hadn’t done that, or anything, just the two of them, for a while.

  She was heading down the hall toward the stairs when the front door opened and Tessa ran in.

  “Hey, Mom!”

  As she did every day after camp, Tessa looked, in her blue shorts, white T-shirt, and sneakers, as disheveled and filthy as a homeless person. Perhaps Anne ought to take a photograph of Tessa like this and send it to Sarah, perhaps that would arouse her interest in her grandchild.

  “Don’t say hey, Tessa, that’s vulgar. Say hello. Or hi. You look like you’ve spent a lot of time in the sun today.”

  “I did. Tennis in the morning, swimming in the afternoon, and we got our photos back from Youssif. Mine are so cool, want to see them?”

  “Why don’t you shower first?”

  “Mom.”

  “I don’t want you to track dirt through the house.”

  “Mom, I’m not dirty. I’ll take them into the kitchen. Anyway, Carmen will clean in there tomorrow morning.”

  Tessa headed down the hall, blond braids bouncing against her back, loose curls spiraling around her ears. Anne inhaled sharply. Ever since she’d turned twelve, which was pretty much parallel to the time when Randall said he wanted a divorce and moved out of the house, Tessa had become more forward. Not antagonistic, but assertive. Probably it was just part of growing up, but Anne didn’t care for this new development any more than she did the approaching sexual issues they were going to have to deal with sooner or later.

  Reluctantly she followed her daughter.

  Tessa slid a group of photographs from a manila envelope onto the table. They were all black and white, many out of focus. Grass. Ferns. Leaves. A bunch of white poles.

  “Those are legs, Mom. Can you tell? I did a study of legs. Shins. Shins is a funny word, isn’t it? Anyway, I think it’s cool. I’m going to hold a contest to see who can guess whose legs are whose and the winner gets—oh, I don’t know, help me think of a prize. I mean, could you identify your own shins from a group?”

  Anne plucked a photograph from the pile. Her words came out stiff, loud. “What is this, Tessa?”

  Tessa looked. “Oh, I didn’t take those. Chad and Tracy did.”

  “Tessa. These look … pornographic.”

  Tessa laughed. “Mom! What are you talking about?”

  “What were you doing here? Lying on the ground. What was this boy doing to you?”

  Tessa got very quiet. “I was lying on the ground because I was photographing the underside of leaves. I was trying to get a new perspective.”

  “And here? Where this boy is trying to push your shirt up?”

  “He wasn’t trying to—”

  “Look at these, Tessa! Look!”

  Anne fanned the photos out on the table. In one shot the boy was absolutely straddling Tessa, one leg on either side of her writhing body. His hands were on her waist. Tessa’s legs bent toward her belly, her back curled up, thrusting her breasts forward, her neck arched toward the margin of the paper, ending with her open mouth in a grimace. She could have been laughing, but she could have been screaming.

  “He was just tickling me, Mom.” Tessa’s voice was very small.

  “How can you be so sure? You know nothing about men. Nothing about boys and what they like to do.”

  “Chad’s my friend.”

  “You think a boy his age wants friendship from a girl like you? These are very disturbing photos, Tessa. Has your camp counselor seen them?”

  “Yes. He was the one who got them developed, and he commented on all of them.” Tessa reached out to take the photographs. “If you hate them so much, I’ll throw them away.”

  “Oh, I think not.” Anne snatched the photos. “I think Mrs. Allison should see these. I want an explanation.”

  “No, Mom! I gave you an explanation! We’re not doing anything wrong!”

  “If you believe that, you’re naïve.” Anne tapped the photos into a tidy pile and slid them back into the envelope. “I’m going to take these to Mrs. Allison.”

  Tessa, sobbing, reduced to a child, implored, “Mom, don’t, please. It would totally humiliate me.”

  Anne studied her daughter. “Either that, or you drop out of camp.”

  “But Mom, I love it!”

  “We’ll arrange for you to have private tennis lessons.”

  “No, Mom, come on! I have friends there! I have fun there!”

  “I’m not going to change my mind, Tessa. You have to trust my judgment. I’m the adult here, and responsible for your health and welfare, and I can see things happening here that you are just too young to understand. I’m doing this for your own protection.”

  “Mom, please.” Tessa was wild with crying, her entire body shaking.

  “Calm down, Tessa. You’re becoming overwrought. Go shower. That will relax you.”

  “I don’t want to relax! I want you to—”

  “Tessa.”

  “I hate you!” Tessa screamed suddenly. “I don’t want to live with you anymore. You’re weird and crazy and mean! I want my real mother!”

  Anne went white.

  Tessa couldn’t stand the way her mother looked now, her face naked with misery, so she turned and raced up the stairs, as if she could outrun the pain.

  Tessa showered a long time. The noise of the water fell around her like a refuge, obliterating all other sounds in the house. She was nearly ill with sadness and self-hatred. The way she looked in the photo made her sick to her stomach.

  Worst of all was the fact that, in a way, her mother had been right. When Chad tickled her, she had felt something more than a kid would feel. His hands on her had been scary and mesmerizing. “Stop!” she pleaded, but she hadn’t really wanted him to stop. She’d felt like Beryl’s cat who in the midst of being petted suddenly bit you hard on the hand. Tessa had wanted to bite Chad hard, or something.

  And all that showed in the photograph. Tessa was sick at heart.

  Her mother was right. Her mother had seen the truth, and was only trying to protect her.

  Tessa dried off quickly, hating her body—it was so naked. So gross. So full of nasty hungers, for food, even for the sight of Chad—

  She had to change somehow.

  She pulled on jeans and her baggy sweatshirt and padded in thick white cotton socks down the stairs.

  Her mother wasn’t in the kitchen or in the library. Tessa walked down the hall to her mother’s study, and as she drew near to the door she heard a sound that wrenched her apart.

  Her mother was crying. Sobbing, really, as if her heart were broken. Guilt flooded Tessa like a black stew. She could not bear this. She had to make this right.

  “Mom?” She pushed open the door and huddled just inside.

  “Not now, Tessa.” Anne was sitting at her desk, her place of strength and sanctuary. Her shoulders were hunched, her face buried in her hands.

  “Mom, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I don’t want to see my birth mother. I love you.”

  “Oh, Tessa.”

  Tessa went to her mother. She put her hand on her mother’s arm. “I don’t have to go to camp.”

  Anne’s eyes flickered toward Tessa’s. They were red and swollen, and her nose was swollen, too. Her cheeks were tear-streaked. She looked completely undone, but at Tessa’s words, she sniffed and essayed a smile.

  “You could help with the campaign,” Anne offered.

  “Sure. That would be okay.”

  “It might even be fun, honey. I’m going to start going door-to-door. You could go with me. It would be a pleasure to have your companionship, and people always love to see children. Would you like to do that?”

  “Sure.”

  Anne took a crisp embroidered linen handkerchief from her purse and wiped her face. “You’re such a good girl, Tessa.”

  “I didn’t mean … in that photograph—”

  “We won’t talk about it ever again.” Anne patted the bottom drawer of her desk, which was locked. “We don’t need to mention this to your father.”

  “All right.”

  “It’s as good as forgotten, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “I know you’re a good girl, Tessa. I really do. And you know I love you and only want the best for you.”

  “I know, Mom.”

  Anne nodded. “Good.” She looked at her watch. “We’ve got to leave for our meeting with Dr. Lawrence.”

  “Okay.”

  “Are you sure you want to go like that?”

  Tessa was silent. Then she said, “What do you want me to wear?”

  “Your blue dress would be nice.”

  “Okay. I’ll go change.”

  “Thank you, darling.”

  Tessa turned to go to her room.

  “Oh, and darling?”

  Tessa stopped.

  “I won’t mention the photographs to Dr. Lawrence. I don’t want him to get the wrong impression of you.”

  Tessa stood frozen, mortified.

  “All right, Tessa?”

  Tessa nodded.

  “After our meeting, we’ll do something fun, all right? How about a movie? I think there’s a new Disney one at Fresh Pond Mall.”

  “Okay.”

  “Tessa?”

  “Okay.”

  Anne looked at her watch, then rose.

  The August sun was still high when Kelly set out along 6A to the Sagamore Bridge and Route 3 toward home. Luckily the heaviest traffic was headed in the other direction, for the Cape and islands. With a twenty-ounce Diet Coke and a bag of Cape Cod potato chips to fortify her for the three-hour trip, Kelly punched the radio dial to a hard rock station, snuggled down into her seat, and tried to lose herself in the undeniable beat of music.

  That didn’t work.

  The music, slow or fast, soft or loud, made her think of Randall. Or not think, really, so much as remember, in a kind of insistent sensual replay that had obsessed her every night this week as she tossed and turned in the unfamiliar bed, trying to fall asleep.

  His mouth on hers. Warm breath.

  His body on hers. Delicious weight.

  His body in hers. Dense honey, dark heat. Silence and restraint as they tried to remain on the brink, eyes closed, mouth to mouth, entirely focused on the tip and sheath of extreme pleasure, greedy for it to stay. To stay. To stay.

  And then the way the floodgates had opened.

  All her body asked of her now was that she remember that moment over and over again, while she drove.

  But she had some serious thinking to do. Some important questions to ask herself. Like, what the hell did she think she was doing?

  Jason was a good man. Actually, he was a wonderful man. And he was in love with her, and she had made a contract with him—for an engagement is a kind of contract—and she knew she should honor that contract.

  Randall had said he wanted them to be genuine, honest, and open to one another. Real to one another.

  “If we are to have a future together,” he had said.

  His daughter was adopted, he’d said.

  He loved his daughter, more than anything in the world. Having a child had changed his life. He wanted more children.

  What would he think of Kelly if he knew what she’d done?

  And if he still loved her, what did that mean? What about Jason?

  These questions were thorny, difficult, painful. It was much easier to drift back into sensual memories of the two of them in bed.

  Dr. Lawrence opened the door to his office. “Anne, Tessa, nice to see you again.”

  “It’s nice to see you again, Dr. Lawrence,” Anne replied. With a hand on Tessa’s shoulder, she guided her into the office.