Josh disagreed. “Is he stil having the affair?”

“I don’t know.”

“Have you asked him?”

“No.”

“Wel , what does he say when he cal s?”

“He says he misses me. He asks when I’m coming home.”

“That’s just because of the baby,” Josh said. “He cares about you now because you’re pregnant.”

Josh said these words without realizing how hurtful they were. Melanie’s eyes widened in shock. Right away, he knew he should apologize, he did apologize, and Melanie said, “No, no, you’re right. I can’t trust him. I don’t trust him. He’s only cal ing me because I’m pregnant.”

“He’s stupid,” Josh said. And when Melanie didn’t respond, he said, “It might be better if you didn’t tel me about the phone cal s anymore.”

“Okay,” she said. “Sure thing. I just don’t want to keep anything from you.”

But this wasn’t exactly true. What she kept from Josh was how the phone cal s made her feel and what she intended to do about Peter once the summer ended and she returned to Connecticut. Peter was her husband, yes, but was she going to take him back? Melanie never said, and Josh was afraid to ask. He needed someone to talk to, but there was no one. He spent al day with a four-year-old, throwing perfect pitches, fielding perfect hits.

“Josh? Josh?”

Blaine was standing at “home plate” with his bat poised when Josh, who had been ready to pitch, froze. It was his custom, between pitches, to check on Porter, who was asleep on the blanket under the umbrel a. Was he stil asleep? This was increasingly important now that Porter could walk; the last thing Josh wanted was for Porter to toddle off down the beach unnoticed. But when Josh checked on Porter this time, he was taken by surprise. There was a person sitting under the umbrel a next to Porter, a person who had appeared out of nowhere, like a ghost, like a bad dream. It was Didi.

“What—” Josh said, but he stopped himself. He didn’t want to get noticeably angry or flustered in front of Blaine.

“Hi,” Didi said.

“Josh!” Blaine said. “Pitch!”

Josh looked at Blaine waiting—and then back at Didi. Josh felt as threatened as he would have by a cobra under the umbrel a with Porter, or a Siberian tiger. What if Didi snatched Porter up and disappeared with him?

Josh pitched the bal , Blaine smacked it over Josh’s head. Didi made a big show of clapping and cheering, and at that point, Blaine realized there was someone under the umbrel a with his brother. A stranger. But no, not a stranger.

“Hey, I know you,” Blaine said. “From the hospital.” As Josh retrieved the bal , Blaine approached the umbrel a. Not too close! Josh thought. He jogged over.

“Blaine, do you want to play with Mateo now?”

“What about Wiffle bal ?”

“I have to talk to Didi.”

“Is she your girlfriend?”

At this, Didi laughed, a forceful, one-syl able blast. “Ha!”

“No,” Josh said. “But I have to talk to her. Wil you play with Mateo?”

“How many minutes until lunch?”

Josh checked his watch. “Eighteen minutes.”

“Okay,” Blaine said. He wandered a few yards down the beach to where Mateo Sherman was burying his father’s feet in the sand. Omar Sherman looked over to Josh and said, “I’ve got him.”

“Thanks!” Josh said. Omar would be wondering who Didi was, as would Mrs. Brooks two umbrel as down. Josh smiled at Didi, but this was purely for show. “What are you doing here, Didi?”

“I know about her.”

“You know about who?” Josh said wearily.

“You’re screwing the mother’s friend,” Didi said. “And she’s pregnant. I know al about it. It’s weird, okay, Josh? It’s twis-ted.”

“You don’t know a damn thing,” Josh said. “You are so far off base, you’re just making shit up. You sound like a crazy person.”

“Rob saw you with a woman with curly hair. Older. And I did some further research. It’s the mother’s friend. She came to the hospital for a prenatal appointment. I know you’re sleeping with her. I know you took her to the house in Shimmo. Zach told me.”

Stop! Josh thought. Stop and think! But if he paused, even for a second, if he faltered or showed a crack, she would get a fingerhold and pul him apart.

“You owe me money,” Josh said. “Two hundred dol ars, plus interest. Are you here to pay me?”

“Don’t try to change the subject,” she said.

“You’re the one who’s trying to change the subject,” Josh said. “Because the only thing between you and me is that money.”

“I need five hundred dol ars to get my car back,” Didi said. “Give me five hundred dol ars and I won’t tel anyone.”

“Won’t tel anyone what?”

“That you’re sleeping with a woman who is pregnant. I could see if you hit on the other one, the sister. She, at least, is attractive, though waaaaaaayyyyy too old for you.”

“Stop it, Didi. You can’t blackmail me.”

“Sure I can.”

“No, you can’t,” Josh said. “What you’re saying is outrageous. No one wil believe you.”

“Rob saw you, Josh. Out in Monomoy. With the woman. At midnight. How do you explain that?”

“I don’t have to explain it because it isn’t true. Rob is untrustworthy. He’s as crazy as you are.” Josh looked over at Blaine, happily playing with Mateo Sherman. Omar gave Josh the thumbs-up. Porter’s breathing was deep and even. Everything is okay, Josh told himself. You can handle Didi.

“Everyone wil believe it,” Didi said. “Because you’re different this summer. You never come to parties, you don’t go out. You don’t do anything except hang around with those women and the kids. Everyone’s noticed, Josh. I’m sure even your father’s noticed. Although, maybe not. Your father is pretty oblivious.”

“Stop it, Didi.”

“I’l have to clue him in.”

Josh tried not to let any emotion cross his face. He felt like he was onstage. Stil , he couldn’t let Didi get anywhere near his father. That would be a complete disaster.

“Whatever,” Josh said. “My father already thinks you’re wacko, Didi. Anything you try to tel him wil fal on deaf ears.”

“That’s a chance I’l have to take,” Didi said. She stood up and brushed off the seat of her shorts. “Give me five hundred bucks and I’l let this go. I won’t tel your father. I won’t tel anyone.”

“Get out of here, Didi.”

“You’l be sorry.”

“Why are you doing this?” Josh asked.

“You real y want to know?”

“Yes,” he said. “I real y want to know.”

Didi sidled up to him and tucked herself right under his ear. “Because I love you,” she whispered.

A few days later, the heat arrived. Real heat, and humidity—and as in the case of an unwelcome houseguest, no one knew how long it was staying.

Josh was glad he wasn’t working at the airport. How the kids could stand on that asphalt al day without feeling like they were sausages on a griddle, Josh had no idea. Even the beach wasn’t much of a reprieve. The sand was too hot for Blaine to walk across, so Josh had to carry Blaine in addition to his usual load. The three of them abandoned their routine and spent al morning swimming in the shal ows. The water was as warm as a bathtub, and strewn with tangles of seaweed. It cooled down a little at night, but there was no breeze. The humidity hung in the air in damp sheets, and the mosquitoes hatched. Josh’s Jeep had no air-conditioning, so he and Melanie made love on the beach, where they got eaten alive. They were sticky and sweaty, and their skin became breaded with sand.

“Yuck,” Melanie said. “This is when you want the Four Seasons.”

Josh’s house had no air-conditioning either, so Tom Flynn set up a big square fan at one end of the table that blew on them while they ate. Josh liked the fan; its noise took the place of conversation.

“Hot one,” Tom Flynn would say when he sat down. Josh was making cold things for dinner: Italian subs, tuna fish, sliced watermelon; the iceberg salad had never tasted so good.

“Hot one,” Josh agreed.

Maybe it was because of the noisy fan, but Tom Flynn did not bring up Didi’s visit at the table. Instead, he caught Josh in the morning, as Josh was getting out of the shower. It was Saturday, not a day Josh worked, and so he was in no particular hurry. Josh came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist to find Tom Flynn standing in the hal way. Waiting for him. His presence was so surprising, Josh sucked in his breath.

“Jesus, Dad. You scared me.”

“Do you have a minute?” Tom Flynn said. This was very much the rhetorical question, and Josh tensed. He knew what was coming, sort of.

“Can I get dressed?”

“By al means,” Tom Flynn said. “I’l be out on the deck.”

“The deck” was off Josh’s parents’ bedroom. Because it was on the second floor, it caught the breeze. It was by far the most comfortable place in the house in this kind of weather, and yet Josh never used the deck, and as far as Josh knew, his father never used it, either. In fact, it had been a year, maybe two, since Josh had set foot in his father’s bedroom at al . He wasn’t exactly surprised to find that it was stil the same—same dark-patterned bedspread that Josh and his father had bought at Sears in Hyannis shortly after Josh’s mother died, same neat-as-a-pin dresser, same lineup of shoes in the closet. A picture of Josh’s mother hung on the wal , a picture of her from high school, in which she was barely identifiable as the woman Josh had known. Stil , Josh stopped and looked at the picture on his way out to the deck.

Do you hate her? Vicki had asked.

Tom Flynn was already outside, his arms crossed on the railing, his head focused in the direction of Miacomet Pond and the eleventh hole of the golf course in the distance. He was wearing a white undershirt and a pair of belted khakis. He was barefoot. Josh couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his father barefoot. If Tom Flynn could be described in any way, it would be as tightly laced, buttoned up. But half dressed and without shoes, Tom Flynn seemed vulnerable, human. For this reason, Josh relaxed a little.