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the sound of voices into the den and saw a guy who was a couple of inches shorter than me standing next to Dee Dee. She’d tied her damp hair back from her face, and her skin still glowed from the sun at the pool.
    “Hi, Sarah,” Dee Dee said. “This is Eric Hendrickson.”
    Eric studied me so intently, I stared back, hoping he’d get the message to cut it out. He wasn’t bad-looking, but not great-looking, either. His tan was blotchy, red-streaked across the bridge of his nose and cheeks, and his short-cropped hair was sun-bleached. He was dressed in white shorts and shirt and carried a tennis racket. I wondered what kind of nut would play tennis during the hottest part of an August day.
    “Before I get back to work, would any of you like something cold to drink?” Mom asked.
    “Thanks. I could use a beer,” Eric said.
    “No,” Mom answered. “No beer.”
    “I’m eighteen,” Eric said.
    “No beer,” Mom repeated with a smile. “There are soft drinks in the refrigerator. If you’d like, Sarah can get them for you.” She left.
    “That was real smart, Eric,” Dee Dee said sarcastically.
    “Hey, what’s the matter with you, Chubby?” Eric complained. “She asked, didn’t she?”
    “You’re a clod,” Dee Dee muttered.
    This was awful. I tried to distract them from their argument by asking, “Why are we just standing here? Why don’t we sit down?”
    Dee Dee curled on one end of the sofa, as far away from Eric as she could get. He flopped and slumped, his muscular legs stretched out into the room. “I saw you yesterday when your family was moving in,” Eric said to me. “You gonna go to Memorial?”
    “I guess,” I answered, “if that’s where everybody around here goes to high school.”
    “Some of the kids go to private schools—St. Agnes, St. John’s, Kinkaid,” Dee Dee said.
    “What do you think of the house?” Eric asked me. His expression was so wide-eyed with innocence, it looked fake. I got the feeling he knew it. What was with him?
    Dee Dee glared at Eric. “That’s a stupid question. Why don’t we talk about movies? Has anybody seen that new horror one? The one that takes place in a cemetery?”
    “It’s not a stupid question. I really want to know what Sarah thinks of the house.” A trace of a smile flickered around his mouth. “Why don’t you want to talk about it, Dee Dee?”
    For just an instant I suspected him of mocking me, but it was Dee Dee he was looking at. She was so angry, her face was red.
    “You and your cruel sense of humor!” she snapped. “I already told you what Sarah asked me about the house. You’re a creep, Eric!”
    I didn’t understand what was disturbing her so much. If Eric wanted an answer, I’d give him one, but I’d hedge. I wished Dee Dee hadn’t told him what I’d asked. “Mom loves this place,” I answered. “I was just cleaning the maid’s room, and we were talking about making it into a library.”
    Dee Dee jumped into the conversation as though she’d been reprieved. “A library! Don’t tell me you like to read.”
    “I do like to read. A lot.”
    “That’s great,” she said. “I’d love to see what books you’ve got.”
    “You can help me unpack them,” I told her, “and borrow any you like.” Right now I didn’t want to talk about books. I thought about the woman who had called to me in Spanish. It dawned on me that maybe I could get some information from Eric and Dee Dee. “Did anyone in the Holt family speak Spanish?” I asked.
    Dee Dee gave a little start. “Adam probably learned some in school. We all did. Why in the world do you want to know that?”
    “What about a Spanish-speaking maid? You lived right next door to the Holts. You’d know if they had a maid.”
    “A maid?” She shrugged. “I have no idea. I told you, the Holts kept to themselves. Let’s talk about something else.”
    “If they had a maid, you’d see her going in and out, wouldn’t you?”
    “Not necessarily,” she