Excerpt
R. seemed okay at first. She invited me and Dad over for dinner at her Upper West Side apartment, and we spent the first part of the evening just standing around and watching her cook. R. was mesmerizing; she swept around the kitchen in her silk robes and purple eye shadow, stirring bubbling pots of marinara sauce and bending down every few seconds to kiss Godot, her Yorkshire terrier. Dad was charmed by her, I could tell. She was beautiful and funny and she kept singing lines from different musicals. Dad would say, "The Pajama Game, right?" and she'd shriek, "YES! EXACTLY!" and then he'd sip his beer in this pleased-with-himself way. And it was nice she'd invited me. I guess it was like their first date, so it was a pretty cool move for her to say, "Why don't you bring your daughter?" It made her seem easygoing, sweet, kid-loving. Not at all like a crazy, jealous psychopath, right? Wrong.