oe buries his face in the towel, wiping the sweat from his eyes, and grins up at Kay. “Great game.”

“You played well today too.” She smiles, undoing her ponytail and shaking her dark hair onto her shoulders, then turning to wave good-bye to their doubles partners.

“We’ll meet you up at the clubhouse,” they shout, as Joe and Kay nod their assent and wave them off.

“I’m surprised I played so well.” Joe stands up and starts to gather his things, zipping his rackets into their covers and tucking his tennis balls into his bag. “Given that there were so many distractions.”

“There were?”

“Those, for starters.” Joe looks pointedly down at Kay’s smooth legs and raises his eyes slowly to meet hers, daring her to flirt with him, to take this further, hoping that she’ll take responsibility for whatever might happen between them in the future.

Kay smiles seductively and walks off with a flick of her hair. “We aim to please,” she says with a pout over her shoulder as she crosses the court. “I’ll see you at the clubhouse.”

This happens every time they play tennis. For the last few weeks they’ve gradually become more and more flirtatious, and he’s quite sure she’s up for it, yet every time he dares her to take it further, she just smiles and seems to back down.

Not that he’s even sure he wants to take it further. Naturally he’d like to have sex with her, what red-blooded male wouldn’t, but Joe is not stupid, and Highfield is a small town, and he is fully aware of how people like to talk. His father may have dirtied his own doorstep with his regular affairs with neighbors, but Joe has never been particularly turned on by the prospect of being discussed by everyone in town.

However, too much freedom can be a very dangerous thing, and Joe is finding that the more time he spends in the city without Alice, the more he feels like the bachelor of days of old, and the less point he sees in remaining faithful.

And, Christ, the women here are something else. The women he knew in London were beautiful, but not a patch on the women he sees every day walking down the streets of Manhattan.

Groomed beyond perfection, their hair is glossy, their lips are shining, their bodies are taut, and their heels are high. In other words, they are exactly his type. And you can hardly blame him for being tempted, he figures. After all, it’s not as if Alice is keeping up her side of the bargain. Alice, who was the perfect companion in London, is now slopping about in old clothes and Timberland boots. Every time she accompanies him to a restaurant or a charity event, he holds his breath, terrified she’ll make a sartorial error of judgment and turn up in jeans or a plaid shirt.

So far she’s managed to make the effort, but even so, he can see the other women looking at her, assessing her clothes, dismissing her when they realize it’s not this season’s Givenchy or the latest Galliano. Joe has had to drag her to Bergdorf Goodman and practically force her to try on a confectionery of clothes.

Alice, who used to be so excited by shopping, now appears as if she couldn’t care less.

In fact, Alice, bewitched by her love of the country, her charming little house, her fulfillment of a lifelong dream, is discovering that she is no longer under Joe’s spell. Of course she still loves him—he is her husband, after all—but she no longer has to pretend to be something she’s not in order to please him, to please his friends.

The insecurity and need to be loved, to be accepted, has left her somewhere along the journey from London to Connecticut, and her newfound happiness is not the only fundamental change in Alice. Alice has a confidence that was missing before. She finally looks like a woman who is comfortable in her skin.

Even the fact that Joe is in Manhattan by himself for a part of each week (gradually becoming a longer and longer part as each week goes by, for the more time Alice spends in the country, the more reluctant she is to leave) no longer fills her with fear.

The days when she would accuse him of having affairs, felt sick when he wasn’t answering his mobile phone, feel like a lifetime ago. Now she barely thinks about Joe when he isn’t around, phones him only when she remembers or when she needs him to pick up a lamp or a cushion from Gracious Home.

And Joe, used to Alice needing him, is starting to feel neglected. The women he passes in the streets assess him coolly, smile invitingly, and occasionally start up a conversation. Up until now he has smiled in return and entered into a brief conversation if pushed, but has never taken it further.

Despite his vows, Joe is not sure how much longer he can remain abstinent. The women are perhaps that bit too beautiful, too persistent, and his wife that bit too absent.

Alice has fallen in love again, with her life in the country. Isn’t it only fair that Joe should find a new interest of his own too?

“Hello? Is anyone home?”

Alice puts The Winding Road back on her bedside table—is she ever going to have time to read this book?—and clatters down the stairs to find Sandy standing in her living room, Snoop leaping up to try to give her a kiss hello.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is this a bad time?”

“Don’t be silly. Come in and sit down.” Alice gestures to the kitchen stools, delighted to have some company. As happy as she is, when Joe and Gina are in their respective apartments in the city, Alice is beginning to find that she is growing lonely on her own. Her days are filled with projects—painting, restoring, shopping—but when the projects are over she is forced to admit that she could do with some friends.

“But I thought you were meeting people?” Emily had said on the phone when Alice confessed her loneliness.

“I am, but at this moment I’d say they were still acquaintances.”

Emily had shrugged. “You can’t expect instant friendships, it takes time. But it will happen.”

Alice tries to go out every afternoon. If not shopping, then to the park or down to the beach to give Snoop a long walk. She does talk to people, Snoop being the perfect conversation-starter, but having a quick chat with someone about her dog is not the easiest way to segue into inviting someone over for a coffee and instant friendship.

Sandy sits down on the stool and places a folder on the kitchen counter. “I brought these for you. Newcomers’ Club.”

“Newcomers what?” Alice picks up the folder, intrigued.

“It’s the Newcomers’ Club. Almost every town has one, and I know it sounds cheesy, but you wouldn’t believe the number of people I know who met their oldest and dearest friends at the Newcomers’ Club when they first moved here.”

“But what is it?”

“It’s an organization for people who have recently moved here, and every week there’s something going on for people new to the neighborhood. Look.” Sandy picks up the current issue and flicks through. “See here? Next Friday is the Dinner Club. Every month we meet up and go to different people’s houses for dinner. There’s a different theme each month, and everyone brings a different dish. So next week it’s Spanish, and Julie and Brad, who are hosting, will make a paella, and the rest of us are bringing assorted tapas.”

“It sounds lovely,” Alice lies, thinking it sounds unbearably parochial.

“I know, I know,” Sandy laughs. “Sally told me what you’d say. And when I first moved here I thought I’d never do something as dreadful as join Newcomers, but how do you think I found friends?”

“Really? But normal people? People you would have been friendly with otherwise?” Alice is still dubious.

“Absolutely. How do you think I met Sally and Chris?”

“You’re not going to let me say no, are you?”

“Actually...” Sandy makes a face. “Not only am I not going to let you say no, I need a partner to help me run HomeFront, and I’ve decided you’re the woman.”

“Well, thank you. I’m very flattered,” Alice says in an extremely dubious tone, “but what exactly is HomeFront?”

“Every month we do something to do with the home. Like a few months ago we visited an interior designer’s house and studio, and she gave a really interesting talk about putting a room together. And then one time we visited a paint effect expert who gave us a demonstration on how to crackle-glaze a table.”

“Oh God.” Alice can’t help herself. “That sounds exactly my kind of thing.”

“Exactly! See, it’s not awful. I thought you’d like it, so how about getting involved in running it with me?”

“Do I have to stand around and make small talk with people I don’t know? Because I’m not very good at that.”

“Rubbish. You look like you’re perfect at that. But this is the bit where I get presumptuous.”

“Go on.”

“Next Tuesday we’re having a florist who’s going to give us a demonstration of really fun flower arrangements for dinner parties. It was going to be at someone else’s house, but she’s busy, and I’m having my living room painted so I can’t do it at mine...”

“So you want to have it here?”

Sandy grimaces. “Could we?”

“Of course! Although it’s pretty small. How many people do you think will come?”

“At the moment I’ve had four replies, but I would think around twelve probably.”

“That sounds fine. And what do I need to do? Drinks? Food?”

“Oh no, maybe just some sodas and snacks, but don’t go crazy. Oh, I’m so glad you’re going to do this, and you’ll meet so many nice people.”

“You know what, Sandy, it’s exactly what I need right now.”

“Good. That’s what I was hoping. And if you hate absolutely everyone there I promise I won’t make you do it again.”

At six o’clock on Tuesday evening Alice’s house is gleaming. Bowls of roses perch prettily on polished cherry tables, and Alice, who couldn’t possibly have people over and serve them merely bowls of chips and peanuts, has spent the morning preparing elaborate hors d’oeuvres.

Her pork and ginger wontons are fanned out on a large platter, sticks of chicken satay are waiting in the fridge, and homemade California rolls are sitting next to bowls of soy and small pyramids of wasabi.

Snoop has been banished to the bedroom—the wontons on the coffee table are far too much of a temptation for him—and Alice has lit perfumed candles that are just starting to fill the air with the smell of oranges and cinnamon.

Now that November is under way, it’s cold enough for a fire, but the fire gives off so much heat so quickly, Alice doesn’t want twelve women to suffer heatstroke. Instead she lights three huge candles and puts them in the fireplace instead.

At 6:15 Sandy is the first to arrive. “Good Lord,” she says, walking in carrying a large cake box. “It looks beautiful in here. I still cannot believe what you’ve done to this house.”

“Thank you.” Alice feels a rush of pleasure as she looks around at her home.

“I swear, I would never have believed this house could look the way it does today when I first showed it to you.” She smiles at her. “You’re clearly so much more than a pretty face.”

“I should hope so!” Alice is indignant, but pleased. “So how many people are coming?”

“Ah. A few more than I thought. I think there’ll be seventeen, and there are a couple of people who usually come but who didn’t reply, so it’s going to be a bit cozy but... oh my goodness!” She tails off as she notices the food. “Alice, look at all the trouble you went to. Look at all this delicious food! Where did you get it? Oh my.” Sandy puts a hand on her chest. “Now I feel guilty. I’m supposed to be your partner, and all I did was bring a cheesecake and you’ve provided a feast. Oh no.”

“Oh, don’t be so ridiculous. I made it all this morning in about an hour.”

“You made it? All this?”

“Yes.”

“Even the sushi?”

“Yes. Trust me. It’s much easier than it looks. In a former life I used to be a caterer, so this was nothing.”

“Now isn’t that interesting? You meet people here and think that they’re wives and mothers and you never think about the possibility of them having a career as well, then all of a sudden you discover they had these fantastically interesting lives before moving here. You’re obviously one talented lady.”

“Or one lady with far too much time on her hands.”

“Well, that will change now that I’ve got you into Newcomers. You’re going to have so many friends you won’t know whether you’re coming or going.”

Emily laughs so hard that for a few seconds there Alice worries she’s having some sort of seizure.

“I cannot believe that you, my darling sophisticated Nobu-visiting glamorous friend, hosted a flower-arranging night yesterday evening. And what’s more it’s part of the... what’s it called again?”

“Newcomers’ Club, and it’s not that funny.” Alice pouts.

“Oh, Ali, who would have thought? One minute you’re posing for Tatler as one of London’s most beautiful hostesses, and the next you’re living in the country and learning about flower arranging with a load of housewives.”

“Actually there were some really nice women there, although”—Alice’s voice drops guiltily—“the flower arranging was a bit crap.”

“Not Jane Packer then?”

“God no. Barely even bloody Interflora. She did some horrible thing with purple lisianthus, bright pink gerbera, red berries, and yellow carnations.”

“Well, I have no idea what lisianthus or gerbera are, but the colors sound a bit too colorful.”

“Exactly. I was tempted to stand up and take over.”

“You should have done.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m British. I’d never dare do something like that. Although”—Alice laughs—“two of the women asked her how to do the arrangement on my coffee table, and I think she was a bit pissed off when I admitted I’d done it myself.”

Emily smiles. “They probably didn’t know what hit them.”

“Well, everyone said lovely things about the house. I think the only reason we had such a big turnout was because everyone wanted to see the Rachel Danbury house.”

“Oh yes. You said it was the writer’s place. Have you started her book yet?”

“I’ve only managed the first couple of pages. Every time I try to start something distracts me. I really must make the time.”

“What about bedtime?”

“This country air knocks me out. By the time I actually go to bed I’m so exhausted my head hits the pillow and bam! I’m out.”

Emily pauses. “Alice, I know this sounds like a silly question, but where’s Joe?”

“What do you mean, where’s Joe?”

“I mean you just never seem to talk about him anymore.”

Alice shrugs. “What’s there to say? He’s in the city during the week and down here on the weekends.”

“So do you miss him when he’s in the city?”

Alice thinks for a minute. “I definitely miss having company, but I’m so busy here I don’t really think about it much. I’m sort of getting used to being here on my own, although,” she adds quickly, “it is lovely when he’s back here on the weekends.”

Alice feels obligated to say that, even though it is patently untrue. She is growing accustomed to living in Highfield on her own. She buys the food she wants to eat, watches the television programs she wants to watch, and sleeps with as many blankets and comforters as she can pile on the bed.

She takes Snoop out for long walks, potters around antique shops and consignment stores, and spends hours happily restoring the house to its former glory.

Joe arrives on Friday nights. He rings her from the train, expecting her to drop whatever she’s doing and jump in the car and come and pick him up. He expects there to be a home-cooked meal waiting for him on the table, and he immediately retires to the study—the study that Alice has recently taken over—and regularly berates Alice for leaving her papers on the desk, or messing up one of his piles, or not using the computer properly.

Alice is always ready to crawl into bed by ten, but Joe stays up watching television until hours later. He insists on keeping a window open in the bedroom, even though Alice is permanently freezing, and won’t sleep with anything more than one comforter, so Alice wakes up shivering, and has to sleep in a sweatshirt and a camisole.

On Saturday mornings, when he disappears to play tennis, Alice feels as if she can breathe again, tensing up only when he walks back in and takes a shower, leaving soaking wet towels all over the bathroom floor, acting as if he owns the place (which of course he does, although Alice has long thought of it as “her” house and of the place in the city as “his” apartment—a deal she thinks perfectly fair).

By Sunday afternoon Alice can see that Joe is going stir-crazy. He refuses to join her and Snoop on their long walks and, other than watching television or surfing the Internet for hours, cannot seem to think of ways to fill his time.

Clearly he needs friends, needs a diversion out here, and Alice has taken to sending him into town on last-minute errands, or sending him over to Mary Beth and Tom’s to borrow a drill, hoping they’ll somehow keep him busy for a while.

The only times he seems to enjoy himself are when Gina and George are also down for the weekend, although now that winter is approaching they spend less and less time in the country.

“Oh, please come down this weekend,” Alice has pleaded laughingly on the phone.

“But it’s freezing!” Gina will say. “You keep forgetting that it’s our summer house. Not our freeze-up-and-die house.”

But those weekends spent with Gina and George, Joe is like a different person. He discusses the world of finance with George, flirts innocently with Gina, his truculence and apathy toward Alice replaced with genuine warmth and affection.

Those weekends Alice reverts back to the Alice of old. She basks in Joe’s attention and takes solace in the familiar feeling of needing to be needed. And Joe in turn welcomes back his old Alice, for Gina is nothing if not glamorous, and—much to Joe’s pleasure—Alice does tend to make more of an effort if they are spending time with Gina and George.

So when Alice tells Emily that she looks forward to Joe coming back on the weekends, it’s not entirely untrue. As long as Gina and George are there as well, she knows she’ll have a lovely time.

“Enough about me,” Alice says briskly to Emily. “Less than six weeks to go before you get here. I’m so excited! I can’t believe you’re coming!”

“God knows, neither can I. And let me tell you, we really need this holiday.”

“Is Harry excited?”

“I think so.”

“You think so? Don’t you know?”

“Of course he’s excited. I haven’t seen him much this week. I needed a bit of a break.”

Alice’s heart jumps into her mouth. “Oh no. You’re not going to break up, are you?”

“Oh, I shouldn’t think so. We’ve just been seeing so much of one another he was starting to drive me a bit mad and we agreed to give each other a bit of space.”

“Please don’t break up with him, Em. He’s so lovely.”

“I know, I know. I’m sure it’s just a temporary blip, and by the time we come out to see you we’ll be deliriously happy again.”

“You’re definitely both coming then?”

“Not only have we booked our tickets, they’re nonchangeable and nonrefundable, so I’d say yes, we’re definitely both coming.”

“Oh, good. And you swear you think everything will be fine by then?”

“Absolutely. We’re going out for dinner on Saturday to have a talk, and I know everything will be fine after that.”

“What are you going to talk about?”

“I think we just need to take things a bit more slowly, that’s all. I suppose I’ve been feeling a bit... well... trapped. Does that sound crazy?”

“Not in the slightest. If it’s any consolation, it’s pretty much how I feel every weekend when Joe’s at home.”

“Now that doesn’t sound good.”

“Nah. Tell me about it. Oh God. Here I am complaining again. Actually I don’t feel trapped, he just drives me a bit mad sometimes because he gets so bored, he just doesn’t know what to do with himself out here and he expects me to spoon-feed him a life.”

“And do you?”

“Nope. I’m far too busy. Speaking of which, my darling, I have to go. I’m off to my Gardeners’ Club.”

Emily starts laughing again. “Oh God. Now I really have heard everything! Alice Chambers, you are extraordinary.” And with that they say good-bye.