Emily Listfield's new novel, Best Intentions, is so good, it just may kick off a new genre: women's suspense. Best Intentions probes the questions, "How well can you ever really know another person?" It's about four old college friends: Lisa and Sam (who are married), Deirdre (Lisa's best friend), and Jack (Deirdre's old flame). Lisa is worried about her career and how they are going to pay for their two daughters' exclusive, prep school education, but she's not worried about her marriage. Sam is utterly dependable and loyal, and though they've lost the spark, she trusts him. But when she hears a whispered voicemail on his cell phone from a woman wanting to set up a rendezvous, she begins to wonder. Then Jack comes back into Deirdre's life, full of fire and testerone, and things begin to happen that could have life-or-death consequences, for at least one marriage if not a person. Best Intentions worked for me on every level. Fast-paced enough to keep me from sleeping -- and nearly from breathing -- for the two days (and nights) I spent reading it. I thought a hundred times that I'd figured out the ending, but I was surprised after all -- and yet delighted with how right the ending was. Most of all, though, the characters were fabulous. Despite her ongoing stress, Lisa is a woman I'd love to brunch with on a weekly basis, like her friend Deirdre does, but all the characters are well developed and believable, not just the main ones. Even Georgia Hartman, the society matron in charge of the Silent Auction fundraiser for the girls' school, was fascinating (though not someone I'd want to lunch with!). Best Intentions also captures well the experience of being almost-40, with teenagers. Lisa faces what most of us face at some point: unexpected job insecurity in an economic downturn, questions about a marriage more comfortable than exciting, surly children, the money hemorrhage. I especially love the theme of a old flame -- bright and hot -- coming back into one's life. In this day of no-privacy, find-anybody-on-the-internet, the experience seems to be almost iconic among women my age, and indeed, about a year ago, I heard from one of my dearest, long-lost friends (a man I was secretly in love with). It's a heady feeling, being with someone who still sees you as an idealistic 20-something, despite obvious evidence to the contrary. Listfield's language is wonderful: clear and enthralling with moments of brilliance. For instance, Lisa describes her family's situation (surrounded by neighbors who think nothing of spending more than $15,000 on a silent auction item they don't even want) as being "in their world on a visa." In another place, she says, "Suspicion crackles and pulls, nags and infiltrates, it coils around your brain, distorting your perceptions, it is the smoke you see everything through that refuses to lift. But a lie, hard and indisputable, freezes in your lungs, its ice spreading through your pores, chilling every synapse; a lie once discovered paralyzes you." And later, after the four college friends reunite at a restaurant, Listfield writes, "The city is suddenly still around us, the very air sinking into a deeper shade of night. Jack and Deirdre have wrapped up the best part of the evening and taken it away with them. We are left with only each other." It's not surprising that Listfield would be drawn to suspense. Her personal life was shaped by a defining experience that kept her in suspense for months and years: her husband, sculptor George Dudding, disappeared from a beach in Florida in 1999. Police, the Coast Guard, and a private detective all had differing opinions about what happened, but he has never been seen since, and Listfield calls herself a widow. In an article in Redbook, she describes the experience and says, "As the months passed, I began to regain my energy. Minutes would go by when I thought of other things." Minutes! She wrote a novel based on her experience, Waiting to Surface (which of course I ordered as soon as I finished Best Intentions). Listfield also writes a delightful blog: Brunch Babble. In Best Intentions, Lisa and Deirdre meet for brunch about once a week. It's their girl-time, time to gossip and debrief, and Listfield uses her blog as girl-time with her readers. My only issue with the book was that it was spoiled for me. If you're like me and you hate spoilers, don't read any reviews on Amazon, don't read blog reviews, and don't spend too much time cruising Listfield's blog, at least not until after you've finished the book. You may remember I mentioned Listfield when I blogged about my first conversation on Twitter. I linked to a promotional website Listfield set up. The website was fabulous, but it led me to believe the book was something entirely different from what it was (can't be more specific without spoiling, sorry!). Even more frustrating, it told me about a pivotal event in the novel that doesn't happen until P. 222 (though it is alluded to in the prologue). So I spent the first 200+ pages thinking the main story hadn't even started yet. I think I would have enjoyed those 200+ pages more if I hadn't been waiting to get to the real story. That's where Listfield explores her central conflict (is Sam having an affair?) and theme (How well do we really know anyone?), but they got short shrift due to my hurry-and-get-there mindset. I've read other reviewers who liked knowing what was going to happen, and indeed, it gave me a lot of respect for how well Listfield set up the story. But myself, I'd rather not know. So read the book! It's contemporary women's fiction at its best: complex, compelling, and exquisite. But skip the reviews.