“So he did her the big favor of screwing her. Wasn’t she the lucky one?”

“Well, it’s over now anyway.”

“I’ll say. Take it from me, you can’t trust a guy who’s hellbent on getting in your pants.”

“Even if he loves you?”

“Especially if he loves you, and worse if you love him.”

Violet picked up a wand of mascara and began to sweep her lashes, leaning into the mirror so she could see what she was doing. “I’ve got Cokes for you in the fridge and a carton of vanilla ice cream if you and Daisy want some.”

“Thanks.”

She recapped the wand and used a hand to fan her face, drying the dramatic fringe of black goo. She opened her jewelry box and selected six bracelets, thin silver circles that she slipped over her right hand one by one. She shook her wrist so they jingled together like tiny bells. On her left wrist she fastened her watch with its narrow black-cord band. Barefoot, she got up and crossed to the closet.

There was very little evidence of Foley in the room. He kept his clothes jammed in a pressed-board armoire shoved in one corner of Daisy’s room, and as Violet was fond of saying, “If he knows what’s good for him, he better not complain.” Liza watched while she hung the kimono on a hook on the inside of the closet door. She was wearing sheer white nylon underpants but hadn’t bothered with a bra. She slipped her feet into a pair of sandals and leaned down to fix the straps, her breasts bobbling as she did. Then she pulled on a lavender-and-white polka-dot sundress that zipped up the back. Liza had to help her with that. The dress fit snugly, and if Violet was aware that her nipples showed as flat as coins she made no remark. Liza was self-conscious about her figure, which had begun developing when she was twelve. She wore loose cotton blouses-usually Ship’n Shore-mindful that her bra and slip straps sometimes showed through the fabric. She found this embarrassing around the boys at school. Ty was seventeen and, having transferred from another school, didn’t act stupid the way the others did, with their mouth farts and rude gestures, fists pumping at the front of their pants.