Jenner walked out beyond the barrier of the box privet and onto the dark realm of the course. He couldn’t see her. The hedges funneled walkers down the golf-cart path, and Maggie was wearing heels, so she’d probably followed the paved surface.

The road was lit by black ornamental lampposts, glowing like fireflies on either side; Jenner wondered if, in a previous era, they’d have been lawn jockey statues. Seen from the bright haloes of the path, the greens were gloomy and dark, the color of poison yew.

Jenner had walked about five minutes when he spotted Maggie. She was on a bench by the first water trap, her dress floating around her like a luminous cloud, pale blue in the moonlight.

She glanced up, then back out over the still black water.

“Hey.” He sat on the bench right next to her.

She ignored him.

“You okay?”

She turned to face him and snapped, “Really? That’s really what you’re going to ask me?”

She snorted. “What do you think, Jenner? How do you think I am?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You know, you’re as bad as he is. You did nothing, Jenner! Nothing!” She looked down at her hands, her fingers working some invisible knot. “My father has…problems. He was drunk, he couldn’t help himself. But you…?” She paused before continuing.

“What, couldn’t think of anything to say?” Maggie shook her head angrily. “How could you just sit there and listen to him say those things, and not say a word?”

Jenner stayed silent.

“You have no idea how hard all of this is—dealing with him, trying to raise Lucy, keeping the shelter going…I have no one! No one supporting me, no one to see the things I have to do, no one to help me.”

She was crying now, and he lifted a hand to touch her shoulder.

“Don’t!” She brushed it off. “And don’t say, ‘The nanny’—she doesn’t count, she’s a paid attendant. I need someone to be a part of this, to really help me.”

Maggie sat back, face turned away.

Jenner said softly, “I’m sorry. It must be very hard for you.”

“Wrong answer!” She stared at the water. “I don’t want your pity.”

He took her hand gently, but she pulled it back. He said, “I’m sorry. I had…I didn’t know he’d behave like that. I’m so sorry…”

She breathed out, then turned to him. “Pass me my purse. I need a cigarette.”

Jenner picked the black patent-leather purse up off the grass and handed it to her; it was heavy, and when she snapped it open, he saw a small pistol. It didn’t surprise him—in Miami, he’d known several women whose clutch purses hid a shiny little gun.

Maggie stuck a cigarette between her lips and opened the match-book. As the match lit up in her hand, he saw her eyes were clear, her cheeks dry again. She took a deep drag, shook the match out, then slowly exhaled the smoke, eyes shut.

She looked at Jenner, weary and expectant. “So. I know you’re just dying to share your impressions about how messed up we are, the Craine family.”

“Actually, I’m not really excited about saying anything right now.”

“I know, I know! Poor Jenner!”

Another quick drag; she blew the smoke out harshly.

“I know how it must seem. I could tell you my father was a decent man, that he and my uncle were the best guys on earth, just really misunderstood, but that’d be a lie. Daddy’s a son of a bitch—he keeps me utterly dependent on him, gives me just enough to cover my expenses, and Lucy’s, but not a penny more. And, if anything, my uncle is worse.”

“Your uncle?”

“Oh, Gabriel Craine, another handsome branch of the magnificent Craine family tree, Jenner. He runs Craine Brothers Medical now—he took control in the early 1980s; each month, he shits out a measly little allowance for Daddy. He’s a ruthless bastard—he doesn’t approve of my father or me, not one bit.”

“Well,” Jenner said, “it can’t be all that measly…”

Maggie waved her cigarette dismissively. “Daddy’s clever with money. But it’s a pittance, considering how huge Craine Brothers is—y’know, when People profiled us in 2004, they said we make one in four of the items in your medicine cabinet. Do you have any idea how rich my uncle is?

“Anyway.” She inhaled, more slowly now, and let the smoke settle deep into her lungs. “So, what else can I tell you about the Craine Curse? Well, you’re a doctor—I’m sure you can tell Lucy’s anorexic.”

When Jenner didn’t answer, she glanced at him, and saw he knew. “Yeah, thought as much—can’t hide anything from you.” Another drag.

Maggie looked him in the eye. “So, well, sorry, Jenner. Sorry I’m a disaster. Nothing I can do about it…”

She let the smoke out slowly, then stood and flicked the cigarette into the water.

She smoothed her hair, then turned to him, studied his face. “You see how I am now, right? So now what do you think—still…interested?”

“Maggie, wait. Just…slow down.”

“This is how it always works—it’s because of you, you know?” She smiled sadly. “I find someone I like, my father fucks it up. He’s not like that when it’s just him and me at dinner, or with his friends.”

“He clearly has problems.”

“Problems? Christ, Jenner, you don’t know the half of it!” She laughed, the sound sharp and thin. She was quiet for a second, then said softly, “But who am I to judge? I’m no better. Besides, he’s my dad.”

Maggie glanced at him, looking up at her uncertainly, and smiled. “It’s okay, Jenner. I’m okay now.”

When he didn’t answer, her smile widened. “Really, no, I’m okay. I’m sorry I kind of lost it there—I ruined our date more than he did.”

“You didn’t ruin it.” He smiled. “But…it was a date, then?”

She laughed. “Of course it was—I’m damaged, not dead! You’re the most interesting thing to wash up in Port Fontaine since Ambrose fucking Burmeister!”

Jenner raised an eyebrow.

She took his hand, and pulled him to his feet. She looked at him critically. “After all, you’re okay-looking. You’re tall. You have a job. You’re straight.”

Maggie paused. “You are straight, right?”

She turned to him as he grinned, and caught his arm. “Because, you know, if you tried to kiss me, I doubt I’d fight it…”

Jenner leaned into her, and her lips met his; pressing against her skin was like going under, soft and hot, a feeling of continued motion when both of them were still, as warm and disorienting as ether.

Her lips lingered, and when she gently pushed him back, her hand over his heart, he breathed out, as surprised as if he’d witnessed a miracle.

Maggie smiled. “We should get back there before Daddy molests the coat-check girl or something.”