THE GRASMOOR, WHICH was located on Madison Road—Liz passed it on her jogs—consisted of two handsome, three-story, cream-colored brick buildings with green awnings. The unit Liz and her parents viewed, which was for sale for $239,000, had three bedrooms, two and a half bathrooms, two terraces, and a view of the fountain in the courtyard. For the duration of the tour, which was conducted by Shane, Mrs. Bennet wept, a fact that seemed to cause greater consternation for Shane than for Liz or her father.

“Seriously,” Liz said as the tour concluded, “getting this much space for this amount of money is incredible.”

“My dear,” Mr. Bennet said, “your coastal affectations are in imminent danger of becoming tedious.”

“For comparison, I’d love to show you a unit down the street,” Shane said, and Mrs. Bennet said, “I don’t have the energy.”

Liz said, “Mom, let’s keep going a little longer.”

“You have absolutely no idea what this is like for me,” Mrs. Bennet said.

“Losing a house can be like losing a member of the family,” Shane said. “Am I right, Mrs. Bennet?”

She looked at him vaguely—Liz had decided against mentioning Shane’s race in advance of his meeting her mother, saying only that he’d been a Seven Hills classmate—then, as if Shane hadn’t spoken, Mrs. Bennet turned back to Liz. “I’m sure you can’t understand now,” Mrs. Bennet said. “But someday you’ll learn what it’s like to be treated with utter callousness by your own children.”