that.”

“Wow. You have a lot more courage than me.”

Evelyn laughed. “It’s all relative. We all have stuff we’re afraid of.”

“What do you think happened to Helene?” I probed.

Evelyn began to draw steps in the sand. “I went outside to get some fresh air. That’s when I heard Helene and Sara arguing, then Sara stormed off.

“Why was Sara’s dress wet?”

Evelyn stopped drawing in the sand. “Was it? I don’t know.”

I watched the little boat out in the ocean, bobbing up and down with the tide. A seagull showing some moxie cawed at us and approached. Evelyn waved the stick at it and it ran off.

“What about the spouses?” I asked. “Can you tell me anything about Bruce or Alan?”

Evelyn scratched out the steps she had drawn and doodled a heart in the sand. “I don’t really know them. It was the first time I met them. I thought they were nice enough but my husband said Alan was kind of keyed up.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged. “Fred was having a cigar with Howard, Sara’s husband, who said Alan was running around like a chicken with his head cut off.”

“Do you know anything about an affair Alan might have been having?”

A smile crossed her face. “Was he cheating on Margaret?”

My heart dropped. How could she be happy at someone else’s pain?

It’s not my job to judge.

“Do you know anything about it?”

She shrugged. “No. You ask Sara, though. They’re neighbors. She might know something.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Falling Behind

To Do:

1. Call Sara.

2. Clean the house.

3. What does a nanny cost? Do they clean house, too?

4. Look up swim classes for Laurie!

5. Research preschools!

6. Walk on the beach every day!!! It is pathetic that I get out of breath after a few steps!

When I arrived home, the first thing I did was make straight for the washing machine. I pulled off my sneakers and emptied them directly into the mop sink. I was mesmerized by the amount of sand pouring out.

How could my feet fit in there with all that sand?

I peeled off my socks. What was it about Ocean Beach that made this sand so sticky? It clung to my socks and was even between my toes. I put my socks into the washing machine and dumped the contents of the laundry basket, which was next to the machine, inside it.

I heard the upstairs door creak open.

“Kate?” Jim called from the top of the stairs.

“It’s me. I’m doing laundry. I didn’t want to track sand upstairs.”

Jim descended the stairs. “How was your walk?”

“Good, but it nearly killed me. I’m totally out of shape.”

He wrapped his arms around my waist. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, you just had a baby.”

“That was weeks ago! I can’t believe this woman at eight months pregnant outpaced me.”

Jim laughed. “Sleep deprivation can do funny things to stamina.”

I leaned my head onto his chest and listened to his heartbeat. “That’s so nice of you to say, honey, when we both know I need to get my butt in gear and work out.”

He kissed my hair. “You’ll be ready to run with the bulls by spring.”

I pulled away from his chest and looked at his face. “Speaking of bulls or bullies—this woman was a piece of work! No wonder they kicked her out of the club. So mean!”

Jim laughed. “You think everyone is mean, but that’s because you’re too nice.”

“I’m not nice.”

Jim looked incredulous.

“Where’s Laurie?” I asked.

“Upstairs. I left her unsupervised. I’m sure she’s trashed the place by now.”

I made a fist and playfully waved it in his face. “Okay, I’m nice, but not that nice.”

He laughed. “She’s asleep in her crib. And by the way, Dr. Alan Lipe’s office called. They said there was a cancellation for tomorrow, wanted to know if you wanted the spot.”

I opened the door to the medical office and peered into the waiting room. It was empty except for the receptionist sitting behind a closed-in glass counter. She was dressed in a white lab coat and had thick short gray hair.

She peered at me over her bifocals.

I smiled. “Hi. I’m Kate Connolly. I have an appointment with Dr. Alan Lipe.”

She studied the appointment book. “Yes. May I see your referral slip?”

“Ooooh. Um. I forgot that.”

She tapped the book with the eraser of her pencil. “And the referring doctor is . . . ?”

Of course, I didn’t have one.

Think, Kate, think!

“Dr. Green,” I lied.

Dr. Green was my ob-gyn, but was the only name I could come up with.

She frowned. “Which practice is Dr. Green with?”

“Uh. I don’t