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all sweaty. Why don’t you take a dip in the pool?”
    “Don’t want Henry to see you all sweaty like that,” Suzette joked pointedly.
    “Maybe I will,” Pandy replied, realizing that the excitement of her impending triumph had indeed made her perspire. She grabbed her cell phone and walked to the edge of the water. Unable to bear the suspense any longer, she tapped in Henry’s number.
    He picked up after the first ring.
    “Henry,” she said eagerly. “They do love it, right?”
    “We’ll talk about it when I get there.”
    “When you get here ? What’s that supposed to—”
    What felt like a giant sponge slammed into the back of Pandy’s knees. She took a step forward, her arm swinging upward to correct her balance. The toddler in the astronaut suit rolled past her and splashed into the water as Pandy watched her cell phone plunge into the pool.
    As her phone hit the bottom, the realization that Henry had bad news dropped like a brick into the pit of her stomach. Motioning wildly, she stumbled back to her friends. “I need a phone!” she screamed.
    “Why?” Portia asked.
    “I need to call Henry.”
    “I thought he was coming here .”
    “I need to know. Before he gets here.” Pandy choked out the words, reaching for Portia’s phone and dialing.
    And then the sun must have gone behind a cloud because a shadow began to darken Pandy’s vision. A wave of nausea caused her knees to buckle as she dropped onto the chaise and Portia’s phone fell out of her hand.
    “Sweetheart. Are you all right?” Portia bleated as Suzette picked up the phone and held it to her ear.
    “Henry?” Suzette asked.
    She looked over at Pandy and nodded. “I see. Yes, I will,” she said briskly, and hung up.
    “ Whadhesay? ” Pandy screamed.
    “He’ll be here any minute. He’s hired a car.”
    “A car?” Pandy asked in confusion. Black and white squares began pinwheeling in front of her.
    “I don’t understand. What just happened?” Portia demanded, talking over Pandy as if she weren’t there.
    “I think her book just got rejected,” Suzette said in a stage whisper.
    “What?” Portia gasped.
    “Her new book,” Suzette hissed. She made a slicing motion across her throat.
    “Ohmigod,” Portia screeched. She paused, then added, “Is that all ?”
    “What do you mean, is that all? Isn’t that enough ?” Suzette’s voice rose.
    Portia shrugged. “I thought maybe Jonny wasn’t going to give her a divorce. Or he wanted even more money.”
    Pandy struggled to sit up. “He’s giving me the divorce!” she shouted.
    “Well, then. There’s no problem, is there?” Portia continued blithely as she draped a towel over Pandy’s shoulders. “If it’s only the book—you can just write another one, right?”
    “Oh, good. Here comes Henry now,” Suzette exclaimed with false cheer.
    “Pandy?” Henry asked, leaning over her.
    Pandy was now frozen in place, her hands soldered over her eyes.
    Henry peeled back her little finger and then slowly pulled her hands away.
    “The book?” Pandy gasped.
    “I’m sorry,” Henry said, as Pandy’s throat closed in terror.
    *  *  *
    It took a stiff slug of vodka before Pandy was able to speak again.
    She swayed on her barstool, alternating between sobs of grief and valiant reassurances. “It doesn’t matter!” “It’s all for a reason!” And most of all: “It will all be all right .” In between these statements were longer moments that felt like some sort of punctuation that would never end: a very long dash, for instance.
    She wanted to crawl into the deepest and darkest of holes; to tunnel lower than she’d ever gone before—where, naturally, she would curl up and die.
    But as the people around her wouldn’t allow that sort of behavior, Pandy went along with their plan:
    Yes, she did agree that it might be a good time to take a couple of days off.
    Yes, she had been holed up for a very long time.
    And yes! She had been dealing with a huge amount of