I didn’t tell him I hadn’t driven a stick-shift car since college. Like riding a bike, I told myself. I stepped on the clutch, put it into First and with the confident push on the gas that my college roommate had taught me, I was heading toward Forester’s mansion.

“Nice,” Mayburn said grudgingly.

As I reached the house, the front door opened. Annette came outside, her arms crossed over her black dress.

I parked on the right of the circle driveway, where Mayburn was shielded from her view. I jumped out and scampered to the front door before she could approach the car. “Annette, thanks for meeting me here. How are you?”

She frowned a disapproving glance at the car. “I’m fine, thank you.”

I looked over my shoulder. “I don’t have a car,” I said. “I had to borrow this from a friend.”

She gave a nod, then shook her head slightly as if to toss off the sight of the shiny little spitfire.

Annette held open the front door and gestured for me to come inside. I had a shot of nervousness. How was I supposed to ensure that she didn’t lock the front door or that it wasn’t one of those doors that locked automatically? Mayburn needed to be able to get at it so we could get back in later. I couldn’t think of a way, so I simply followed her inside. She led me past the foyer, which was like a marble basketball court it was so huge, and into the living room decorated to the hilt, the French doors overlooking the back lawn and pool.

Annette sat on a wingback chair covered in soft taupe leather and gestured for me to sit on the couch. How strange it was to see her there, as if she owned the house. In the past, I’d only encountered Annette as she moved through the place like a ghost, a phantom who brought food and wine and cleaned up clutter before you knew it was there.

“Would you like something to drink?” she said.

“No, thank you. I don’t want to take up your time.” I glanced at the front door. I needed to make sure it was open, and I needed to get Annette to the backyard so Mayburn could work his magic. “On second thought, I would like some water. And I forgot my cell phone from the car. I’ll be right back.”

As hoped, Annette nodded and left for the kitchen. I hurried to the front door and went outside, letting the door close behind me. I couldn’t see Mayburn, which was good. I waited a moment, then tried the front door, which was blessedly open. I gave a thumbs-up in the general direction of the car, in case Mayburn was watching, and went back inside.

I stood in the living room instead of taking a seat, and when Annette returned, I asked her if she wouldn’t mind going outside.

She gave a one-shouldered shrug, as if she cared little, and began leading me from the room.

“So, how are you?” I asked.

“About the same.”

“The same?”

“The same as when we spoke yesterday.”

“Ah. Right.” I suppose Annette’s statement was accurate-she still didn’t have her two-million-dollar inheritance.

We went through one of the sets of doors and out onto the lawn.

“I’ll leave you alone for a moment,” Annette said, starting to turn.

“No, no, no!” I couldn’t let her go back into the house without giving Mayburn a chance to do a number on the front door and the alarm. He’d told me to give him at least five minutes.

I grabbed Annette by the elbow. “Please, come with me,” I said. “I don’t think I can be alone.”

She pulled her arm away and gave me a sharp glance but then, with a terse nod, she followed me.

We walked toward the pond, the grass spongy under our feet. In between the pine trees, the oaks stood tall, but there were few leaves on the ground, as if the groundskeeper had just been there that afternoon.

At the edge of the pond, we fell into silence. I tried to keep rough track of time in my head, wanting to give Mayburn what he needed, but I found it hard to care. Suddenly, I could see Sam on that day we met, the sky an ocean-blue color behind his head, his martini-green eyes staring at me with delight and a knowing-a knowing that seemed to suggest he understood me, or that he soon would. I could see Forester, too, his silver hair glinting in the sun, holding court at his summer party, always gracious, always truly glad to see everyone-whether they were one of his execs or one of his doormen. He loved his estate. It was fitting, in a way, that he had died out here.

“I can’t believe he’s gone.” My words sounded small out on that big lawn.

“Yes,” Annette answered simply, then after a few seconds, “I couldn’t believe it when I found him.”

I watched her face. It was completely composed-the way it always was. “I’m so sorry for you. I know that must have been awful.”

“Yes. It was very shocking, but already I am growing accustomed to him being gone.”

I narrowed my eyes. I couldn’t help it. Was it so easy for her to move on because she’d done something to Forester, and now the stress of the situation was eased by the two million she hopefully could soon enjoy? But the cops had said they tested Forester’s food. Of course, that didn’t mean that she hadn’t been in the house the whole time and simply swapped out his meal after he died.

She seemed to catch my look. “I’m old enough to know that this is the course of death, Isabel. And of life. No matter who it is that passes, the loved ones can never grasp it at first, even though we know that everyone dies. And then, sooner than we think, we work the reality of the situation into our daily lives. Later, what is surprising to us is not the death but the fact that we have continued to walk on.”

I’d rarely heard her speak so many words in a row. “That’s how it was when I lost my father,” I said, “but then again, I was so young.”

“It works the same. It’s always the same.”

“I’ll never get used to Sam being gone.”

She looked at me with some suspicion. “You really don’t know where he is?”

“No.”

A pause. She looked back at the pond, at the warbled reflection of our bodies and the trees behind us. “You will get used to his absence. Whether he returns tomorrow or never, you will grow accustomed to what has happened. You will work it into the fabric of your life, because that’s what we do. Adaptation-it’s an undeniable human reaction. You don’t even need to control it for it to happen.”

She turned, and we shared a long look.

“Thank you, Annette. I appreciate you letting me come here.”

She gave a brisk bob of her head. “Forester would have appreciated it.”

43

Lovell’s, a restaurant located in a French provincial-style house, was a place where Forester used to like to eat steak and drink red wine. I took a seat at the bar there and, as arranged, waited for Mayburn’s call. For two hours I munched on peanuts and sipped tonic and lemon, constantly looking at my cell phone. Finally, ready to float away on peanut salt and carbonated beverages, it rang.

“Jesus Christ,” Mayburn said. “You’d think Annette had nowhere else to go.”

“She probably doesn’t.”

“Well, she’s gone now. No other staff around.”

“I’m heading back.”

“Go slow and quiet on the drive. And park halfway down under that bunch of oaks.”

The night was heavy and still as I parked the car and walked through the long, inky blackness toward Forester’s house. The gravel crunched under my feet, like someone chewing ice with their back molars. Tiny lights lined the driveway, but they were thirty yards apart, and in the spaces between I had the sense of being off kilter, as if the ground under my feet could turn to sand and suddenly give way.

Forester’s house was dark when I reached it except for a few floodlights that highlighted the massive front columns and surrounding trees.

“Mayburn?” I whispered into the night.

I heard the snap of a breaking branch, and I swung around. No one there that I could see. “Mayburn?”