“Hmm, I don’t see it,” Suzette says.

She doesn’t see it because it’s not true. Neither of them look anything like me. And while we’re at it, neither of the kids shares my personality. Nico is a lot like Enzo, and I don’t know where on earth my intelligent, reserved daughter came from.

“By the way,” Suzette says. “I just found out some fantastic news. Another family that Martha works for has just moved away. I’ll bet she would be happy to clean for you too.”

“Oh.” Enzo and I exchange looks. Of course I love the idea of someone besides me cleaning my house, but we can’t afford it. “That’s so nice of you, really, but I don’t think…”

“I’m free Thursday mornings,” Martha tells me.

“Would Thursday mornings work for you?” Suzette asks me.

How do I explain to this woman whose house is twice the size of ours that we can’t afford a cleaning woman? And even if we could afford one, there’s something about Martha that makes me incredibly uncomfortable. “Um, the time is okay, but…”

Before I can come up with an excuse that doesn’t involve me admitting that we don’t want Martha’s services, Suzette’s eyes drop to the pie in my hands. She lets out a tinkling laugh. “Oh no, Millie, did you drop that on the way over?”

Ugh, I guess I made it too rustic.

Thankfully, I at least manage to put down the pie on the coffee table in their living room while Martha disappears to the kitchen. The living room is much larger than ours. Every part of their house is twice as large as ours or possibly three times. The outside is just as old as ours—the house was built in the late 1800s and not much has been altered—but unlike ours, the inside of their house has been fully renovated. Enzo has promised to renovate our house the same way, but I suspect it will take the better part of the next decade.

“The house is gorgeous,” I comment. “And you have so much space.”

Suzette rests her hand on a large piece of furniture that I guess you would call an armoire. I wonder if we could get an armoire for our house. (Who am I kidding? We’re lucky we can afford chairs and tables.) “All three of these houses used to be farmhouses originally,” she says. “This house was the main house where the owners lived. And 13 Locust was the servant quarters.”

“And what about our house?” I ask.

“I believe that was the shelter for the animals.”

What?

“Cool!” Nico says. “I bet my room was the pigs’ room!”

Okay, she has got to be messing with us. I mean, if it were a house for animals, it wouldn’t have stairs, right? Or maybe the stairs were put in later. I have noticed sort of a smell that…

“Jonathan!” Suzette cries.

Suzette’s blue-green eyes are on the twisting stairwell leading to the second floor of their house, where a man is descending to the first floor. He’s wearing a white dress shirt paired with a navy-blue tie, and unlike my husband, he seems very comfortable dressing up. Also unlike my husband, his looks are otherwise completely unassuming. His facial features are blandly pleasing, his light brown hair is neatly trimmed, and he’s clean-shaven. He’s only a couple of inches taller than I am, with a slight build. He seems like the sort of man who could disappear into any crowd.

“Hello,” he says with an easy smile. “You must be Millie and Enzo.” He turns to address the kids. “And company.”

After Suzette’s pretentiousness, Jonathan feels like a breath of fresh air. “Yes, I’m Millie,” I say. “You must be Jonathan.”

“That’s right.” He reaches out to take my hand, and unlike Suzette’s death grip, his palm is smooth and he doesn’t make any attempt to break even one of the bones in my hand. “So good to finally meet you.”

Jonathan shakes Enzo’s hand next, and if he is at all threatened by my husband—some insecure men are—he certainly doesn’t show it.

I instinctively like Jonathan. I can’t say why, but it’s just a vibe I get. I’ve worked in a lot of households in my lifetime, and I’ve gotten pretty damned good at reading people.

Especially reading couples.

You can tell a lot from body language. There are certain gestures I’ve seen husbands make that suggest they are exerting their power in the relationship. For example, a kiss on the forehead rather than on the lips. A hand on the small of the back while they walk. It’s subtle but I’ve come to notice it. However, Jonathan isn’t doing any of that with Suzette. There’s nothing to make me think that they are anything more than what they seem—a happily married couple.

“So how are you enjoying the new house?” he asks us.

“I love it,” I blurt out, having forgotten my shame about my house possibly having previously served as a shed for barn animals. “I know it’s small, but⁠—”

“Small?” Jonathan laughs. “I think it’s a perfect size. I would have grabbed that house if it were available. This one is so ostentatious, especially for just the two of us.”

Score another point for Jonathan.

“So you have no children?” Enzo asks them.

Before Jonathan can answer, Suzette blurts out, “Oh no. We’re not children type of people. They’re so loud and messy and constantly need attention—no offense. People who want to make that sacrifice are absolute saints.” She laughs as she says the words, as if it’s hilarious that anyone would want to give up their life to be a parent. “But it’s just not for us. We are absolutely in agreement about that. Right, Jonathan?”

“Right, yes,” he says amicably. “Suzette and I have always agreed on that.”

“It’s not for everyone,” I say.

Although I couldn’t help but notice that while Suzette was gushing about how wonderful it is to be childfree, Jonathan had a morose look on his face. It makes me wonder if they really are “absolutely in agreement” on the issue of parenthood. I wouldn’t judge anyone for not wanting to be a parent, but it’s sad when one person in a couple has to give up their dream to suit the other.

“I was telling Millie that I love how cozy and quaint their house is,” Suzette says. “I agree, this house is just so sprawling and extravagant. Honestly, we just don’t know what to do with all this space. Especially our massive backyard.”

At the mention of the word “backyard,” Enzo perks up. “I have a landscaping business if you are looking for help with your yard.”

Suzette arches an eyebrow. “Do you?”

He nods eagerly. “I have clients in the Bronx, but I am now trying to move out here. Such a big drive to the city.”

“The Long Island Expressway is murder,” Suzette agrees.

Yes, especially the way Enzo drives. Every time he merges onto 495, I’m certain he will die a fiery death. He had a very decent business back in the Bronx, but he’s making an effort to get more clients out on the island so he doesn’t have to keep making that long drive every day. The goal is to transition his business to the surrounding neighborhoods within the next few years. And there are enough wealthy families around here that there’s good potential for the business to grow and expand.

“I am excellent at landscaping,” Enzo adds. “Whatever you want me to do with your yard, I do it.”

“Anything?” Suzette asks in a voice dripping with suggestion.

“All landscape services, yes.”

She rests a hand on his biceps. “I just might take you up on that.”

And then? She just leaves her hand there. On my husband’s arm muscles. For way, way too long. I mean, there’s got to be a limit to how long you’re allowed to keep your hand on the muscles of a man who is not your husband, right?

But it’s harmless. Her own husband is right there after all. And Jonathan doesn’t seem the slightest bit upset over it. He probably knows that Suzette is a flirt and he’s learned to ignore it.

I tell myself I have nothing to worry about.

And I almost convince myself too.

EIGHT