A chatty suburban horror story which does hold your surprised attention, particularly if you're in your wrong mind--like Jessica, who readily admits she's an ""immature"" young mother and wife. Her husband Sam has been much too occupationally mobile--as many jobs as homes in four years. Now in Westchester, they rent the downstairs of a Mrs. Falconer's house in spite of the instant warning of a new friend. All previous couples left suddenly and were divorced after their experiences there. Jessica, of course, should have walked out immediately before the series of disconcerting (no lights--the keys don't fit--Mrs. Falconer is omnipresent) to terrifying (a pornographic doll left in the crib of their child, Patience) episodes. Patience becomes withdrawn out of her wits--Sam seems to be never around--and Jessica does her best until. . . . A different story of victimization and funk, sometimes muffled in the toddler talk.