I’ve noticed that many of them are on Cooper’s invitation list. “I owe them” is all Cooper will mutter when I ask about it, and I’m pretty sure he isn’t referring to the poker night he sometimes hosts. I mentioned that I look forward to his introducing one nicknamed “The Real Bum Farto” to his mother, and Cooper only smiled mysteriously.

“So,” I say to Patty when the guys are gone, hoping to steer the conversation away from Jasmine’s death, though this will be difficult, since Patty’s sitting directly opposite and below the window of 1416, Jasmine’s room. The window is dark.

As soon as Jasmine’s parents come to get her things—which I, and probably Sarah, will help them pack up—a new RA, chosen by Lisa from the waiting list, will move in. Only then will I be able to see a light in room 1416’s window again when I look up.

“Have you found out yet if the new baby is a boy or a girl?”

“Hell no,” Patty says, breaking off a piece of dark chocolate from the bar she and Frank brought to go with the gelato. “If I find out it’s another boy, I won’t push, I swear to God.”

“Aw, come on, Patty,” I say. “You don’t mean that.”

Patty makes owl eyes at me. “Oh, yes I do. Just wait until you have a baby, then you’ll know. You need all the energy you’ve got to push the little bugger out. And why would I push if I know at the end all I’m going to get is another little hell demon like Indy, whose only goal in life is to flush all my jewelry down the toilet? Don’t get me wrong, I love my son, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him, but this next one better be a little girl.”

“Here, Patty,” I say, passing her a plate left over from the appetizer course. “Have a little cheese to go with your whine.”

Patty laughs, then stops abruptly and looks at me with wide, guilt-stricken eyes.

“Oh God, Heather,” she says, biting her lower lip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—when I said that just now, about wait until you have a baby, I completely forgot about your, uh . . .”

“Inability to get pregnant due to severe uterine scarring thanks to endometriosis?” I lower the cheese platter I’m still holding. “It’s okay, Patty. I guess Cooper and I will have to experience the wonders of parenthood through your children. And of course all the kids in the dorm where I work.”

Patty doesn’t look comforted. “Oh, Heather, you’re making light of it, but I know it really hurt when you found out. Isn’t there anything the doctors can do?”

“Of course there is,” I say, “and if we wanted a child that desperately, we’d be exploring those options, and others, like adoption or foster care. But neither of us feels an overwhelming urge right now to reproduce or be a parent. We’re happy with the way things are. Why? Do we seem sad to you?”

Patty shakes her head until her long crystal earrings sway.

“No,” she says. She lifts her napkin to dab at the corners of her eyes, which have gone shiny in the light from the candle flames. “No, not at all. You seem happier than I’ve ever seen you—and we’ve known each other since we were kids, or close enough. And obviously Cooper’s over the moon—well, he’s always been crazy about you. I knew he was in love with you from the moment you two met—”

“Oh, come on,” I interrupt, thrilled by her words but certain she’s only saying them to please me.

“I’m serious! He could never look at anyone but you if you were in the room, and that hasn’t changed. The other girls and I used to laugh about it. I mean, you were going out with his little brother, so it wasn’t like he could make a move or anything. But the minute you and Jordan broke up, none of us were surprised that Cooper was there to the rescue, offering you a place to live—”

“—in exchange for doing his bookkeeping,” I point out.

“Oh, please,” Patty says. “Like the man couldn’t afford to hire a bookkeeper. You’re not that good with numbers. He had designs on you the whole time. I’m so happy for you, Heather, really.” She reaches out across the table to grasp my hand and squeeze. “So happy for you I can almost forgive you for letting those bratty little twin sisters of his be bridesmaids.”

“Oh, come on,” I say again. “You’re matron of honor. Why can’t you let Jessica and Nicole have their moment in the spotlight too?”

“Because they’re spoiled little troublemakers,” Patty replies, releasing my hand to dab at her eyes again. She isn’t crying anymore, she’s indignant. “Did you know one of them—I can’t keep their names straight, but the chubby one who thinks she can write songs—”

I hear footsteps and voices in the kitchen behind me. Patty hears them too, and her gaze flicks past me—she’s sitting facing the glassed-in kitchen addition, whereas I’m looking out toward the yard—and I see her expression change from one of annoyance to wide-eyed alarm.

I turn in my chair to see who Cooper has let inside the house, but not before I recognize one of the voices. My blood goes cold in my veins, despite the warm evening air.

“What are you talking about?” A trim, middle-aged woman dressed in a cream-colored pantsuit is asking Cooper as she clip-clops behind him in a pair of high heels. “She’ll be delighted to see me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Cooper says. His voice is as cold as the wine in my glass. He’s leading the woman past the kitchen table and toward the open door to the back deck, his expression grim, while Frank follows behind them both, Indiana squirming in his arms.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” the woman says. She has an expertly coiffed auburn bob and a tastefully made-up face, a filmy cream-colored scarf thrown around her throat, probably more for dramatic effect than to hide whatever the ravages of time have done to her neck—she was always a fan of plastic surgery. “She wants to see me. I’m here because she invited me.”

Patty’s hand closes around my wrist. Her fingers feel as cold as my blood has gone.

“That’s what I wanted to tell you,” she whispers. Like mine, Patty’s gaze is glued to the woman in the kitchen. “Your future sister-in-law, the do-gooder—”

“Nicole,” I say, through lips gone numb with shock.