One more false accusation against Martha will be the end of her tenure here. And she is very good at cleaning. She’s so… efficient. She works her butt off and never complains, even that one time I left dishes in the sink.

But I also don’t want her here if she’s stealing our stuff. There are other people who are good at cleaning and don’t steal your money. Plus, I’ve never felt quite comfortable around her.

“Maybe I took the money out,” Enzo says thoughtfully. “I think I did. I am just not sure.”

“Enzo,” I say. “Can we talk about Nicolas?”

He slides the drawer closed. He juts out his chin in a defensive expression, and I can already see how this conversation will go. “What is there to talk about? This is unfair.”

“It’s not unfair. He punched a kid in the face.”

It bothers me that this makes Enzo smile. “A boy is being mean to a girl, and he stood up for her. Good for him!”

“He shouldn’t be breaking other kids’ noses.”

“The principal says the nose is not broken,” he reminds me. We did get an email from the principal, informing us of this. Thank God, because we can’t afford a lawsuit. “Just bruised, right? Is nothing.”

It also bothers me that Enzo seems a little disappointed that the kid’s nose wasn’t broken. “That’s not the point.”

“He’s a boy. This is what boys do. They fight. I did this all the time when I was a boy.”

“You punched kids in the face when you were a boy?”

“Sometimes.”

Okay, well, that’s interesting to hear. I don’t know if he is exaggerating or if he really means it. Like I’ve said, Enzo has studiously avoided talking about his life before he came to this country. But I do know one thing: he had to flee Italy because he beat a man half to death with his bare hands.

Although in his opinion, the man very much deserved it.

Even so, I have always looked at my husband as the more stable one of the two of us. I can be hotheaded, but he thinks things through. When he assaulted that man, he didn’t do it in a fit of passion. That man was his brother-in-law and used to beat his sister regularly until he finally killed her. He found the man, beat him to a bloody pulp, then hopped on a plane to LaGuardia that evening. Enzo knew exactly what he was doing.

He was exacting revenge.

“He got suspended, Enzo,” I remind him. “This is a big deal.”

“Third-grade suspension is not a big deal.”

It’s frustrating that Enzo is refusing to acknowledge that this is a big deal. It makes me wonder even more about his younger days and what he used to be like. Did he really used to get into fights like that all the time? Maybe he did. After all, he managed to assault his brother-in-law without any injury to himself. You don’t do that the first time you ever throw a punch.

Enzo Accardi is a good man. I believe that with all my heart. He has taken good care of our family.

But more and more, I wonder about his past. I wonder what he has done and what he is capable of doing.

TWENTY-EIGHT

I don’t want Nico moping around the house. He might be grounded, but I also want him to have some socialization aside from tagging along with Enzo to a few of his jobs or sitting in my office at work. So the next morning, while Nico stays behind in his room, I walk Ada to the bus stop so that I can arrange a playdate with Spencer.

As expected, Janice shows up to the bus stop with Spencer, who has his leash firmly attached to his backpack. She nods cordially at me, although I recognize I’m not her favorite person. But the boys are good friends at least.

After the kids board the bus and it zooms them away to school, I clear my throat and offer Janice my best smile. “Hey, any interest in a playdate after school today?”

She snorts. “A playdate? You have got to be kidding me, Millie.”

Based on the vehemence of her response, I should probably just drop it. But I can’t help myself. “Why not?”

“Nico was suspended.” She is wearing a bathrobe on top of a long nightgown, and she wraps it more tightly around her bony frame. “For fighting.”

“He was defending a girl who was being bullied.” I sound like Enzo, but he did have a valid point.

“I’m sure.” Janice sneers at me. “Honestly, Millie, even if this hadn’t happened, I hadn’t planned to allow your son back at my house again.”

“Why not? Spencer loves him.”

“Spencer is a child.” She pushes her horn-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I did not appreciate Nico’s behavior in my house. He was very rude. And I found him extremely aggressive. It doesn’t surprise me one bit that he punched another boy.”

As much as I hate hearing her talk about my son that way, part of me wants to get more information out of her. What was Nico doing at her house that she found so unacceptable? Is there something else that I should be worried about? Janice is a little strange, but she’s very observant—I’ll give her that.

“I hate to say it,” she adds, “but this is what happens when you go to work all day and leave your kids alone. There’s a price to pay for having a career while also trying to be a mother.”

“Nico is a good kid,” I say through my teeth. “The move has just been hard on him.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” she retorts. “His behavior has been reprehensible. And frankly, I don’t approve of your husband’s behavior either.”

“Enzo?” I say. “What did he do wrong?”

“Don’t you think it’s troubling how often your husband goes over to visit Suzette?” Her eyes meet mine over the rim of her glasses. “And I suspect it’s more than you think.”

My face gets hot. How dare she imply that my husband is messing around behind my back? “He’s helping her with her yardwork so she’ll recommend him to new homeowners. It’s completely innocent.”

“He’s helping her with her yardwork inside her house? When her husband isn’t home?”

I hate the way a smile spreads across Janice’s lips when she realizes that her words have finally hit home.

“You’re mistaken,” I finally say.

“No,” she says, “I’m not. I catch glimpses through the windows, Millie.”

I glance over at 12 Locust Street. At that moment, Suzette emerges from her house, wearing a skimpy robe. Between her and Janice, it feels like I’m the only one who decided to get dressed this morning. Suzette grabs the mail out of the box mounted next to their front door and waves to us. Janice waves back, and I somehow will myself to do the same. I hold my breath until Suzette has gone back inside the house.

When I look back at Janice, she’s got a smirk on her face. I want to smack it off her.

“So… what?” I say. “You’re just watching the cul-de-sac all day? Spying on the other two houses?”

“Somebody should,” she snips back at me. “You might be better off if you did the same.”

I follow Janice’s gaze, which is directed at the front of my house. The front door swings open, and my husband comes out to collect the mail. He is still wearing his pajama pants, but he doesn’t have on his shirt. He flashes us a broad smile and waves, and all I can think is, Would it kill him to put on a shirt?

“After all,” Janice says to me, “she’s watching too.”