would it? It’s not like Mira would be telling Matthew later over dinner that “that nosy woman from next door came over to try and break into the house, but I was there and she had to make up some lame story about thanking us for dinner.” Besides, Hen could come up with a better story than that. What if she told her she was dropping over because she wanted to get another look at the way they’d decorated their house? That she was trying to get ideas for their place? It was a better plan all around. If Mira was home, she’d probably be flattered, and Hen would be given a second tour. She’d be demonstrably nosy about everything, so that by the time she got to the trophy it wouldn’t look suspicious when she went right up and read what was on it.
Deciding this was a good plan—and now hoping that Mira actually was home—Hen changed into jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, and went back downstairs. Walking toward the front door, she spotted Vinegar scooting along the baseboards, and her heart sped up. Lloyd’s cat—she always thought of Vinegar, who merely tolerated Hen but loved Lloyd, as her husband’s cat—stopped and looked at Hen.
“You scared the shit out of me, Vinnie,” she said, and the cat meowed back plaintively.
Feeling guilty, Hen went down to the basement to check Vinegar’s food bowl, which was empty, and his litter box, which was full. She amended the situation, and Vinegar even rubbed against Hen’s ankles while she dished out the dry food.
Back upstairs, Hen had a moment when she couldn’t remember what she’d been doing when she’d been interrupted by the cat, but then remembered. She breathed deeply, wondering again if it was a smart decision, but then stepped through her front door and walked to her neighbors’ house.
She rang the bell, deciding too late that she should have brought something as a thank-you gift for dinner—a bag of muffins or something—but then the door was swinging open, and there was Mira, smiling.
“Hi, Hen,” she said.
“Mira, hi. I hope you don’t mind my just dropping by, but I was going to email, then decided how ridiculous it is to email someone when they live right next door to you. So I just came over. Is this a good time?”
“It is. Come in.” Mira held open the door. She was wearing yoga pants and a threadbare University of New Hampshire T-shirt.
“I’m sorry to barge in,” Hen said. “Were you working out?”
Mira smiled, her upper gums visible. “Ha, no! I’m packing. I’m going on a business trip this afternoon.”
“Sorry. Please keep packing. I’ll come back some other time.”
Hen was backing up, but Mira shut the front door. “Don’t worry about it. I’m pretty much done, and my taxi’s not coming until one. It’s not a problem at all. Can I get you something? Some coffee?”
“Actually, Mira, I came by because I was hoping to get another look around your house. It’s just . . . I got back to our place on Saturday night and it looked so plain, and now I’m just nonstop thinking about decorating ideas and where to put furniture. And since we have essentially the same house . . .”
“I get it. Happy to show you around again. Let me run up and change, and I’ll give you the grand tour without the bored husbands looking on.”
“Thank you. Perfect.”
“You sure you don’t want coffee? It’s already made, in the kitchen. You can help yourself.”
Mira turned and bounded up the stairs. Hen felt guilty for barging in, especially since Mira—who had been dressed beautifully on Saturday night—was probably one of those women who hated being seen in regular clothes. But then Hen reminded herself that she was on a mission. She entered the kitchen. The coffee did smell good, and there was a clean mug next to the coffeepot, so she poured herself a cup. It was some sort of flavored brew, hazelnut or vanilla, the type of thing she would never buy for herself but enjoyed when she had it at someone else’s house. She leaned against the granite countertop and looked at the clean, stylish kitchen. It was like looking at something in a catalog, everything perfectly in tune with the current kitchen fads. It had some sort of cork flooring, subway tile backsplashes, simple white cabinets, and stainless steel appliances. The kitchen in Hen’s house had ornate rustic cabinets and a linoleum floor that had probably been