You know the boys like the crusts cut off their bread if youre making sandwiches, dont you?

He pauses just long enough for her to realize that, somehow, he doesnt know that.

I know.

She smiles faintly. Just making sure.

Listen, have fun, Garth says before they hang up, as the light changes and Fiona guns the engine to hurtle them on toward the inn.

I will.

No, she wont.

Tell the girls I said h.e.l.lo.

I will.

No, she wont.

He knows Tildy and Ca.s.sie, of course, just as he knew Rachel. He had them in cla.s.s during their days at Stonebridge. Both Tildy and Ca.s.sie popped in and out of Brynns life in the early years of her marriage, before the boys came along and everyone drifted.

But today isnt about catching up on each others families, jobs, lives.

Its about something Brynn isnt yet prepared to dredge from the murky depths of her memory.

But its too late to back out now, even if she dared suggest that to Fiona.

She and Fee havent spoken much during the driveand not at all about the birthday cards, or Rachel, or the past. Or, thank goodness, the expensive Lladro figurine Jeremy demolished in Fionas office yesterday, which Brynn offered to pay for, and was grateful when Fiona refused. She knew it would probably cost more than a mortgage payment, and she and Garth are having a hard enough time making those lately.

Fee spent much of the last hour on her cell phone with clients, in as blatant disregard of the mandatory hands-free headset tossed carelessly on the backseat as she is the posted speed limit.

At least she didnt smoke.

Well, not after the first cigarette she was already puffing on when she pulled into the Saddlers driveway.

Brynn asked her not to smoke in the car.

I can roll down the window.

It still bothers me. I get nauseous, and you dont want me to vomit all over your car, do you?

Obviously, Fiona did not.

Glenview Springhouse is a sprawling, white clapboard house. Judging by the rambling architectural style, Brynn concludes its probably been added on to repeatedly over the years. The restaurant entrance is off to one side, in a wing that consists mainly of a gla.s.sed-in atrium.

Here we go,Brynn thinks, still clenching her cell phone in a hand that remains white-knuckled even now that her speed-demon friend has stopped the car.

She cant help but wonder what shes doing here.

She should be home in Cedar Crest, eating peanut b.u.t.ter sandwichesno crustswith the boys, and nagging Garth about fixing the plastic towel bar in the bathroom that dropped off the tile wall again this morning.

Thats her life, not this this This nightmare.

Do you think theyre here? she asks as Fiona pulls into an empty spot and turns off the engine.

Tildy definitely is. Fee indicates a gleaming red Ferrari 612 Scaglietti parked nearby.

Thats her car? How do you know? Brynn asks uneasily, remembering Fiona claimed earlier that she hasnt seen Matilda in years, either.

Claimed?

So you think she was lying about that?

Why would she?

Her thoughts awhirl with paranoia and suspicion, Brynn cant seem to look her friend in the eye.

No matter. Fee is too busy looking herself in the eye, focused again on the visor mirror as she says matter-of-factly, I dont know its Tildys for sure. But thats a quarter-of-a-million-dollar car, and Im willing to bet its hers. Its her style.

Brynn, noting that she herself failed to discern said quarter-of-a-million-dollar car from the red Hyundai parked next to it, is mired in a familiar sense of being well out of her league.

When she first met the infinitely astute Fiona, Brynn marveled that a girl who grew up in a blue-collar Cedar Crest household could possibly be so worldly.

Brynn has long since accepted that its no accident. Driven by ambition long before she was voted Most Likely to Succeed at Saint Vincents High, Fee shed her local roots like a worn housecoat.

Shed have gone away to college if her parents could have afforded it; instead, she used local connections and worked her way through Stonebridge. By the time she was asked to pledge Zeta Delta Kappa, no one outside her closest circle of friends even realized she was a townie.

She seemed to have everything, even back then: brains, ambition, friends, a great wardrobeand one of the hottest boyfriends around.

Four years older than Fee when she began her freshman year, Pat was a law student at Stonebridge by day and a bartender by night. Plenty of girls were drawn to his affable personality and striking good looks. Black Irish, Fiona used to say, with his shock of dark hair and sooty lashes that fringed coal-colored eyes.

Pat was from New YorkBrooklyn. He was going to be a big-shot lawyer. Fiona often spoke of how they would move to Manhattan, where she would work for some top PR firm.

But Pat never made it to the Bar, thanks in large part to the bar: the Rat, where he worked.

It was obvious that Pat preferred doling out drinks and socializing to studying law. Obvious, that is, to all but single-minded Fiona, so in love with Pat that she saw only what she wanted to see.

Brynn supposes their relationship boiled down to plain-old chemistry: a wild, mutual attraction that struck at first sight, lingered for a few years, and wore off soon after the wedding.

They had been married a few months when Pat flunked out of law school.

Stunned, Fiona turned up on Brynns doorstep late that bl.u.s.tery night, saying she had left him.

I dont belong with some loser dropout. I deserve a lot better than that.

The next morning she woke up, ran straight to the bathroom to vomit, and miserably asked Brynn to run over to CVS to pick up a pregnancy test.

Ashley was born eight months later.

To appease his wifeand support her and his new daughterPat landed a job with a couple of sleazy divorce attorneys up in Pittsfield, working as a paralegal. He continued to tend bar at the Rat at night and on weekends, but spent every spare moment with Ashley.

He still does. Hes a devoted daddyeven Fiona will give him that.

Pat longed for a second child.

Fiona Fitzgerald Public Relations was born the September Ashley entered preschool, and there was no looking back. Fee might not be working in a fancy, high-profile New York PR firm, but she was running a thriving business. One that unfortunately propelled her spiraling marriage right into the ground.

Brynn often wonders whether her friend ever has regretsand whether she occasionally she envies the Saddlers stable lives.

Probably not.

Now, watching her friend check her teeth for lipstick, then snap the visor mirror back into place, she asks, What do you think theyre going to say about all of this?

They, of course, are the two sorority sisters presumably waiting inside.

Only one way to find out. Come on.

Reluctantly, Brynn climbs out of the car and follows Fiona on wobbly legs.

Its too late in the season for summer vacationers and too early for foliage spectators, yet the inns large dining room is fairly crowded this first weekend after Labor Day. The round tables, draped in rich amber linen and centered with flickering candles and fresh autumn-hued flowers, are occupied mainly by couples and retirees.

Matilda Harrington is the lone occupant of a round table for four. She had asked the hostess to move her twice before deciding this was as private a location as possible, in a relatively secluded corner beside a tall, lace-curtained window.

Tildy sips her chilled white wine and takes in the Colonial ambience: the low-beamed ceiling, white-painted woodwork, gleaming, dark hardwood floors. Windows on three walls open onto profuse perennial gardens in brilliant, late-summer bloom and, beyond, a verdant woodland backdrop sure to be ablaze with color in another couple of weeks.

Glenview Springhouse would be the perfect place to spend a romantic birthday weekend, considering that she cant appear in public with the man in her life. Not as a couple, anyway.

Just last night, she made the mistake of saying,Im so sick of sneaking around that Im starting to think I dont care who finds out .

His eyes darkened so swiftly at that remark that she wished she could take it back. He grew quiet and left soon afterward, saying he had to get home.

Healways has to get home.

What Tildy wouldnt give to spend just one nightthe entire nightin his arms.

I deserve that,she concludes.And this would be the perfect place .

Sh.e.l.l have to pick up an inn brochure on the way out, so she can show it to him. With enough advance notice, maybe h.e.l.l be able to swing it.

After all, sh.e.l.l tell him, Im only turning thirty once in my life. I want to celebrate it privately, with you.

Shes beginning to wish she had never planned the big party. She booked the datethe night before her birthdayat the Imperial Ballroom at the Park Plaza Hotel a few months ago.

Spotting her sorority sisters approaching the table with the hostess, Tildy lowers her winegla.s.s. Maybe she should have invited them to the party, she thinksbut only for a split second.

No, she shouldnt have. Theyre not a part of her life now. They wouldnt fit in.

Brynn, she hasnt seen in years. Tildy notes, reluctantly, that her former sorority sister hasnt lost her fresh-faced, wholesome prettiness, nor her willowy figure.

But the cut of her dark blazer is all wrong, and shes wearing it over a pair of Gap khakis, with flat brown loafers of all things.

Tildy herself is appropriately dressed in Ralph Lauren Black Label, perfect for a Sat.u.r.day luncheon in the country. Fresh from the salon, her hair is newly cut in sophisticated layers that fall to her shoulders.

Brynns is still long, pulled back in a simple ponytail, and shes got on precious little makeup.

With some eyeliner, a flattering haircut, and stylish clothes, Tildy thinks, shed be a knockout.

As it is, she just looks so small-town New England. Like someones wife, someones mom. All of which, Tildy reminds herself, she is.

But she doesnt have to look the part, for G.o.ds sake.

Jealous, are you?an annoying little voice pipes up.

Certainly not. Not of Brynns looks, anyway.

And not of anything else. Not anymore.

Ah, theres Fiona. She hasnt changed much since she was in Boston in June, when Tildy introduced her to her old boarding-school friend James Bingham over an elegant seafood dinner at Aura.

Her well-cut trim charcoal designer suit is a little businesslike for Tildys taste. Still, its expensive, fashionable, and becoming, and her legs look fabulous in the above-the-knee pencil-slim skirt and tall-heeled pumps. Her jewelry is gold and tastefully expensive.

Her painstaking a.s.sessment sliding north, Tildy notes that Fees hair is twisted from its sleek right part into its usual smooth auburn chignon, her porcelain skin is flawless as ever, and her green eyes are expertly highlighted with a smoky shadow.

She looks good,she thinks grudgingly.But not better than I do.

Standing, Tildy takes turns air-kissing both their cheeks and notices that Brynns eyes are suspiciously bright.

Youre not going to cry, for G.o.ds sake, are you? she asks lightly as they pull out chairs.

Rather, she intends it to come out lightly, a quip among old friends.

Instead, she sounds b.i.t.c.hy, even to her own ears.

Im trying not to. Brynn studies her cloth napkin as she spreads it in her lap. Im just a little emotional about everything.

You always were, Fiona comments with a hint of affection, and gives her shoulder a pat. But, looking at Tildy across Brynns bowed head, she smirks, just a little.

Andyou never were, Tildy cant help but comment, as she lifts her gla.s.s again in a silent, and not necessarily approving, toast to Fiona.

I never was what? Emotional? Fiona shrugs and picks up the leather-bound wine list. To my credit, no, I wasnt. I wasnt a lot of things Brynn was. Is that Chardonnay youre drinking?

Pinot Grigio.

Fiona flags a pa.s.sing waiter; not theirs. Id like a gla.s.s of the Bouchard Pre & Fils Puligny-Montrachet. Brynn?

She looks up. Oh Just an iced tea, please. With lemon.

Oh, come on, Brynn, live a little, Tildy urges. At least have a gla.s.s of wine with us.