Lucien returned to the table then but didn’t sit back down. “Ready to go?” he asked.

“Don’t we need to pay?” I asked, looking around for one of the many waiters who’d been hovering around us all night but now were nowhere to be seen.

Lucien simply shook his head. “Taken care of,” he said, pulling my chair out for me. I stumbled a little as I stood, not having expected this.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said, but Lucien just smiled.

“It was my pleasure,” he said. “Thanks for the invite. It’s no fun to eat alone.” I saw Roger open his mouth to protest, but Lucien shook his head again. “Seriously,” he said. “I appreciated the company.”

As we headed out of the restaurant, we passed some of the same people still waiting for a table, and they glared at us as we left. We stepped into the hot, humid night that hadn’t seemed to have cooled down from when we’d gone in. After California weather—desert weather—in which temperatures dropped sharply at night, this just felt odd to me, like something was unfinished. Like there was a switch that someone had forgotten to pull.

Lucien directed us back to Hummingbird Valley, and I kept looking over at Roger, who was unusually quiet. He looked pretty worn out. But whether it was the driving, or the prospect of seeing Hadley, I wasn’t sure.

“Did you guys see the topiaries as you came in?” Lucien asked as we drove down his street, pointing outside the window to the figures we’d seen before, looking less ominous now that it was fully dark out and they were lit up by the huge moon. More like they were sentinels guarding the estates that stood just behind them.

“We did,” I said. “They’re amazing.”

“They’re a tradition,” he said, leaning forward a little, between my seat and Roger’s. “You should see this place at Christmas.”

Roger signaled, and we pulled up the World’s Longest Driveway. The house was all lit up as it came into view, and I turned back to Lucien. “It looks like someone else is here,” I said, and noticed Roger’s hands tighten on the steering wheel.

Lucien shook his head. “Timers.”

I nodded and looked at the huge house, all those rooms, and thought about what it must be like to be alone in it. Roger pulled around in front, put the car in park, and turned to Lucien, extending his hand. “You showed us your town,” he said. “Thanks for that.”

“Sure,” said Lucien, shaking Roger’s hand. I noticed the fixed smile from earlier had returned. “I guess I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” I nodded and smiled. He unbuckled his seat belt and opened the door, but then turned back to us. “Listen,” he said. “Y’all want to stay here tonight? We have tons of rooms, nobody’s using the guesthouses.” At this plural, I saw Roger’s lips twitch in a small smile, probably imperceptible to anyone but me.

“We can’t do that,” I said automatically. “Thank you, though.”

“Seriously,” Lucien said. “They’re always set up and ready for guests. And nobody’s using them. It doesn’t make any sense to drive all the way back into town and get a hotel for the night.”

Roger and I glanced at each other, and I had a feeling we were both thinking the same thing. That it would help, money-wise, not to have to spend anything on a hotel tonight.

“Would that be weird for Hadley, though?” Roger asked, turning to Lucien. “I mean, her ex-boyfriend, staying in her house …” It registered that Roger hadn’t had any problem with the “ex” part of that phrase this time.

“She doesn’t have to know,” said Lucien. “And so what if she has a problem with it? You guys are my guests, and I can invite people to stay if I want.”

I glanced at Roger, who raised his eyebrows and nodded slightly. “If you’re sure,” I said. “But you’ve really done too much already.”

“Not at all,” Lucien said, closing the door, his smile relaxing into what I’d seen most of the night. “I’m happy to be able to do it. Now, what you’re going to want to do is drive around the back.” He directed Roger on a road that took us around the back of the house, and I rolled down my window, even though the air-conditioning was on, to try to get a closer look in the dark. The grounds seemed to continue on for miles, and they were gorgeously landscaped. And there were more shaped topiaries, like the ones we’d seen on the side of the road. But there were lots of them here, scattered around—and they were amazing. I saw a bear peeking out from behind a tree, a few dogs, and what looked like a crane, before we made another turn and lost sight of those grounds. “Those are incredible,” I said.

“You like them?” Lucien asked, leaning forward. “Really?”

“Absolutely,” I said. “Are they done by the same person who did the ones on the road?”

“No,” he said. “Someone different.”

“I thought so,” I said. “Those were better.”

“I missed them,” Roger said. “I was, you know, driving.”

“I can show you guys tomorrow if you like. Roger, you’re going to make a left here.”

I understood why Roger had corrected me as we’d driven in—this really was an estate. I had totally lost sight of the main house by now, and we were driving on a paved path through what just seemed like woods. “You sure like to give your guests a lot of privacy,” I said, as we continued on without seeing anything.

“It’s not too much farther,” Lucien said. “And there are Jeeps at both houses, in case you want to get around but don’t want to use your car.” I let this sink in for a second, just how different this way of living was from anything else I’d even heard of, let alone experienced. “Here we are,” he said, and Roger pulled to a stop in front of what would have been considered a normal-size house in Raven Rock. It was two stories and seemed more cabinlike than the main house. It was made of dark wood, with a peaked roof, glass windows that went from floor to ceiling, and a wraparound porch.

“Yeah,” said Roger with a short laugh, killing the engine, “I think this will do.” We got out of the car, and Lucien grabbed my suitcase from the back before I could get to it, then unlocked the guesthouse and let us in.