The small town of Mariston liked to believe in its kindness. White fences, summer fairs, and neighbors who smiled at each other in grocery store aisles—it looked, from a distance, like the kind of place no one could ever leave unhappy. But stories, like towns, look different when you step inside them.Sophie Merrin had returned to Mariston after nine years away, driving a rented car that smelled faintly of pine-scented cleaner and guilt. Her mother had died two months ago. She came back not for the funeral—that had been handled quietly by an aunt—but to clear out the old house,