Almost immediately, Nina began tearing around the house making lists of jobs to be done, furniture to buy, corners to clean. Seemingly overwhelmed by the chaos, she barked out orders like a harried schoolteacher. “This should’ve been done by now,” she said as she charged in and out of bedrooms, her veins bulging. “The place is so filthy. I can’t even stand it.” When she wasn’t on the move, she stood staring into space, one thumb endlessly kneading the base of the other.

Emily watched as garden chairs were folded up with clucks of disgust and thrown onto the lawn. Tables, benches, and mirrors were added to the pile. Towels, pillows, and sheets. Yves came with a truck and took it all away, reappearing the next day with brand-new replacements. As all the new purchases were unpacked and distributed, she wondered what all the fuss was about. Scott didn’t seem the type to care whether or not the cushions on the beds were new or not so new. But Nina looked so stressed that Emily decided to keep quiet and do as she was told. Besides, she was dealing with some nerves of her own. He’s coming, she kept thinking, her stomach flipping somersaults.

On the morning Scott was due to arrive, she found her stress levels rising to match Nina’s. She ran around with her heart so high up in her chest she thought it might fly out of her mouth; she vacuumed and polished, made beds and plumped cushions, and when she finally ran out of jobs, she invented more, just to keep busy. She picked flowers and arranged them in vases. She reorganized all the jars and cans in the cupboards. She straightened all the bath towels, lining them up on their rails with painstaking precision, all the while imagining the moment he drove through the gates. She chastised herself over and over for her excitement, but she couldn’t help it. Her skin literally tingled with anticipation.

Finally exhausting her list of even the most pointless tasks, she wandered aimlessly, looking for something else to do. She found Nina and Aurelia in the outdoor kitchen making a welcome banner, but they looked so cozy together that it didn’t feel right to intrude. She skirted around them, heading instead to the lawn.

She tidied up a game of boules that had been left out, taking the balls back to the games room, then picked up a picnic blanket and two pool towels that had been dumped on the grass, intending to take them in to be washed. But then she spotted another towel and a wet bundle of swimwear on the front steps of the family house. Tutting—honestly, Aurelia, do you never pick anything up?—she went to get them but hesitated as she reached the door, suddenly overcome with curiosity.

What did it look like, she wondered? Upstairs, the bedrooms—what did they smell like? What kind of sheets did they use? She’d seen so little of Scott’s private space, so little evidence of a shared life with Nina. She couldn’t even imagine it.

She snuck a backward look toward the pool. Nina and Aurelia were still moving around in the kitchen.

She knew she shouldn’t go in, but she’d been at Querencia for six weeks. Weren’t things different now? She and Nina had become close friends. She’d earned a measure of trust, hadn’t she? Glancing back at the pool kitchen one more time, she opened the front door and poked her head inside.

The sitting room was exactly the same as it had been on the day she first arrived. Pristine vintage furniture, expensive designer decor, and a thin layer of dust. What did they use this room for, anyway? Actual sitting? Did Scott ever kick off his shoes in here, put his feet up on the ottoman, and read a book? Did Nina sit beside him, her hand on his thigh?

She took a step farther, suddenly desperate to see more. Shifting the weight of the towels in her arms, she gazed at the staircase. Why not just pop up to the bathroom and check their laundry? That would be a kind thing to do, wouldn’t it? Nina had so much to do, surely she’d appreciate the help.

Emily tiptoed across the sitting room and stopped at the foot of the stairs. The whole house was so quiet, her ears rang. She began to climb, pausing midway, holding her breath. She felt like a cat burglar.

On the top step, she looked around, sucking in every detail. Letting her breath out slowly, she realized that she’d expected to find some big secret, some reason why she’d been forbidden to enter, but it was just a house. A mind-blowingly beautiful and meticulously styled house, sure. But still, just a house.

The landing was long and white. Light streamed in through a large west-facing picture window. Looking out, Emily could see the rose garden, the rockeries, the ocean, and the pool; if she leaned over the balustrade, she could just about make out Nina and Aurelia, still bent over their decorations in the outdoor kitchen.

Timber floorboards stretched away to her left, leading to four closed doors, white with ornate silver handles. To her right, two more doors. Carefully placing the pile of wet towels on the floor, she chose one at random and pushed it open.

Inside was a stunning bedroom: ivory-painted floorboards, a freestanding full-length mirror, and a large chest of drawers. Plump cushions were piled high on a dreamy-looking bed. A huge plant towered in one corner. A guest room, Emily assumed.

She stepped back out onto the landing, shutting the door behind her. Trying the handle of another door, she found herself in another bedroom, much larger than the last. This one had a bigger bed, a gigantic mirrored wardrobe, a chandelier, and a spacious balcony. Another door led to what looked like a walk-in wardrobe. Assuming it was another guest room, she turned to go, but then something caught her eye: a pink strapless sundress draped artfully over the back of an armchair. One of Nina’s favorites.

She looked closer. A tattered romance novel sat on the bedside table next to a small pot of moisturizer, and a necklace hung from the bronze sweep of a wall lamp.

Crossing the room, she picked up the sundress—carefully, reverently—and held it against her body. She checked her reflection in the mirror. Maybe if she cut her hair short and lost some weight …

Holding her hair up away from her face, she raised her chin. Angled her hips. Lengthened her spine. Then, without really knowing why, she brought the dress to her nose and inhaled deeply. It smelled like Nina—or a fusty, mothballed version of her anyway.

Returning the dress to the chair, she looked around. The silence was thick. If this was Nina’s bedroom, then it was also Scott’s, but it didn’t look like it belonged to a couple. In fact, it didn’t seem lived-in at all. The surfaces were dusty, the sheets too crisp. She let her fingers trail over the bedspread, wondering how it would feel to peel it back and climb in. Which side did Scott favor, the left or the right? Was he a tummy sleeper or did he curl up on his side?

Turning away from the bed, she cast a thoughtful eye over the furnishings. Everything was white or beige and immaculately textured. It was picture-perfect … and yet there was something odd about it, something she couldn’t quite identify. Actually, now that she came to think of it, there was something odd about the whole house.

Shivering, she turned and crept out the door and back to the landing. Emily checked the window. Nina and Aurelia were still down by the pool, but she knew she shouldn’t stay much longer.

Just one more room. She tried another door. It opened on a lovely but dirty bathroom. The tiles were gorgeous—white and deep blue, each one patterned differently—but the grouting was gray with mold, the enormous mirror cracked and speckled with age. A gigantic claw-foot bathtub stood in the corner, and Emily stepped closer, curious about how deep it was.

Huh.

The bottom half of the bath was stained a sort of gray-brown color, with a darker watermark running just below the rim. She reached out to brush it with her fingertips, but it was dry. The porcelain looked like it’d been scrubbed, but the stain was there to stay, as if the bath was filled regularly with mud or ink.

Something furry brushed her bare toes and she jumped.

Please not a mouse, please not a mouse.

Looking down, she saw the edge of a towel poking out from under the tub. Light blue with little yellow flowers. She reached for it, thinking that she’d check the laundry hamper and then get out of there, but as she did, the towel shook loose. It was streaked with a red-black substance.

She dropped it as if it had bitten her. Urgh, what is that? Then, bending down for a closer look, she gave it a cautious sniff. No smell. No texture. Could it be blood? She didn’t think so. The shade was too dark.

Balling up the towel in her hands, she remembered that she was supposed to be looking for more to wash. Pulling two bath sheets from the wicker laundry hamper, she gathered them in her arms and turned to go, but straightened up too quickly and lost her balance. Tripping over the bathroom scale, she stumbled into the wall and smacked her head hard on the corner of a giant cabinet. A cry leaped out of her throat, and she ducked as the wooden door swung open—then froze when she saw what was inside.