The living room was entirely white—the couches, the armchairs, the coffee table, the wet bar lined with four leather stools—and gave off an immaculate sci-fi vibe, as if it was a movie set no one inhabited. It embodied a starkness that was incongruous with how friendly both Donald and Gayle Reynolds always seemed to me throughout the time I’d known Susan, but the house, which they’d moved into three years ago and which was specifically redesigned by Gayle, suggested something about Susan’s mother that I’d never quite grasped previously and Susan had always hinted at: her mother could be a cold
...more
