“Do you like that bike?” Dorie asked. Dumb question. Really dumb question, but it was all she could think of. Could pregnancy really do this to a person? Could the baby growing inside her really be siphoning off all her normal intelligence? She remembered a couple of the teachers at school joking about the dumb stuff they’d done while they were pregnant. Mommy minds, they called it, and Dorie always thought they were exaggerating, but now she knew different. She was dumb, and she was pregnant, and yes, pregnant by her gay husband, which made her just too stupid to live.

“The bike’s all right,” Madison said. “It’s cheap, but it rides pretty good.”

“I’ve been thinking about buying myself a bike,” Dorie babbled. “It’s supposed to be such good exercise, everybody says. But God, I don’t think I’ve ridden a bike since I got out of college. I bet I wouldn’t even remember how.”

“Sure you would,” Madison said. “That’s why they always say what they say about riding a bike.”

“What do they say?” Dorie asked. She was blanking, she really was. This baby better be a friggin’ rocket scientist, she told herself, because it had already sucked out every brain cell Dorie had ever possessed.

Madison shifted impatiently from one foot to the other. “People always say something easy is like riding a bike, because you supposedly never forget how to ride a bike.” She leaned closer and peered into Dorie’s eyes with something like concern.

“Dorie, are you all right? You seem kind of, uh, spacey this morning.”

“The teachers at school say it’s something to do with your elevated hormone levels,” Dorie explained. “Sharon? She’s teaches freshman English? She was pregnant last fall, and not once, not twice, but three different times she got me to give her a ride home from school, and then remembered that she’d actually driven to school that day. I had to turn right around and take her back to school to get her own car.”

“Yeah, that’s crazy,” Madison said. “Well, anyway, it’s just a temporary condition, right?”

“I certainly hope so,” Dorie said fervently. Madison was starting to walk her bike down the crushed-shell driveway. Dorie caught up with her. “So, we were just getting ready to go down to the beach. Supposed to be a beautiful day today. Not too humid. Anyway, not as humid as it gets in Savannah, which is, like, a million percent humidity. Maybe you could come hang with us at the beach today.”

“Maybe later,” Madison said. She stopped and turned towards Dorie. “Look, I know Julia told you guys about me. I’m sorry I lied to you. But I had my reasons. Anyway, not that it matters, because I’m leaving tomorrow, but I just wanted to tell you, you know, thanks. For letting me stay here. And everything.”

Impulsively, Dorie gave Madison a hug. “Thank you,” she said. “That morning we met, at that restaurant, I was really feeling pretty desperate. My sister flaked out on us, and I was so depressed and worried about money. I guess you thought I was some kind of nut, a perfect stranger, trying to rent you a room.”

“You were nice,” Madison said shyly. “And I’m sure Ellis and Julia—especially Julia—gave you some crap about renting to me without consulting them.”

“They were fine with it, once they got over the initial shock,” Dorie insisted. “They’re really not so bad, once you get to know them. I think they’d like you as much as I do if you’d let them, Madison. Or should I call you Maryn?”

“Doesn’t matter now, but I’ve kind of gotten to like being Madison.”

“What made you pick that name?” Dorie asked, again, trying desperately to stall.

“Remember that movie, Splash? Where Daryl Hannah plays the mermaid, and she rescues Tom Hanks from drowning and falls in love with him? And she names herself Madison, because she sees the street sign for Madison Avenue? That was my favorite movie as a kid,” Maryn said. “I named all my dolls Madison. I even named my kitten Madison.” She smiled wryly. “I guess I wasn’t a very imaginative kid.”

“I named my kitten Kitty,” Dorie said. “So, what does that tell you about me?”

“Tells me I hope you do better with this baby you’re having,” Maryn said, and they both laughed.

But now Maryn was walking towards the house again, picking up the pace, and Julia—oh God, she only hoped Julia had chickened out. Unlikely, knowing Julia.

“I wish you wouldn’t go,” Dorie said, meaning it more than the other woman could know. “I wish you’d stay here, and let us help you with whatever kind of trouble you’re having.”

“You can’t,” Maryn called over her shoulder.

“Get out, Julia,” Dorie thought. “Get the hell out. Now!” She turned around, walked back to the curb, and fetched the unwieldy trash bin, trundling it halfway back to the house when it struck her: “Mommy mind, my ass,” she grumbled, run-walking the still-full bin back towards the street because she had to pee. Again.

Ellis made an elaborate show of setting herself up on the beach, tilting her beach chair at what she thought would be her most flattering angle, slipping out of the filmy cover-up, and reclining facing the water. She did not allow herself to glance in the direction of the garage apartment. That would be just too obvious. Instead, she busied herself with her book and the cooler of cold drinks.

Dorie flopped down into her own chair and took the bottle of water Ellis offered. “Is everything okay?” she asked. “Is Julia coming down?”

“In a minute,” Ellis said. “And when she gets down here, I am going to read her the riot act. You were right, Dorie. She had absolutely no business breaking into Madison’s room. I swear to God, when I saw her walking that bike down the driveway, I nearly had a myocardial infarction. I haven’t been that scared since your mom came home early from work that time we were seniors in high school and almost caught you and Kevin Boylan doing it on your dad’s Barcalounger.”

Dorie took a sip of water. “That wasn’t Kevin Boylan. It was Kieran, his older brother. And we weren’t technically doing it. Just messing around, as Kieran liked to say.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t about to explain the technicalities to Phyllis,” Ellis said. “It was bad enough that we’d cut school and I’d drunk half a bottle of Jägermeister and puked in the backseat of Willa’s Camry. And then here comes Phyllis, and I’m trying to act sober and tell her you had cramps so Miss Deal gave me permission to drive you home from school early. And the whole time I’m praying to the Baby Jesus that Kevin will get his pants on and get the hell out of your den before Phyllis asks where you are.”

“It was Kieran, not Kevin, wasn’t it?”

Ellis and Dorie looked up as Julia unfolded a quilt and spread it out on the sand beside them.

“I was just explaining that to Ellis,” Dorie said. “Kevin Boylan had terminal dandruff. I would never have let Kevin Boylan get to third base. I did have certain standards, you know.”

“Oh, please,” Julia said, dropping down onto the quilt. “Don’t talk to us about standards. We were there, remember? You only let Kieran get into your pants because he drove a cool car and you thought he’d invite you to all his fraternity parties at Georgia.”

“And you guys agreed to go along with our little party because you assumed I’d get you dates with his KA brothers,” Dorie said serenely. “And, if I recall correctly, Julia Capelli, you were the one who shoplifted that Jägermeister from Johnnie Ganem’s Liquor Store.”

“The beginning of a life of crime,” Ellis said somberly. She flicked her towel at Julia. “And you, you idiot, are never to pull a stunt like that again. Ever.” Ellis fanned herself. “My nerves can’t take the strain.”

“Your nerves,” Julia drawled. “What about mine? When I found all that loot stashed in the back of Madison’s closet? Not to mention the gun under her mattress.”

“What?” Dorie sat straight up on her lounge chair. “You are making that up.” She turned to Ellis. “Phyllis was right about one thing, though. Julia Capelli was, and still is, a bad influence.”