Missy cleared her throat loudly. "I believe we had better begin our class.”

Jane scuttled back to her place between her mother and Shelley and sat down, shaking her head in disgust.

“Do you think she's gone gaga?" Shelley whispered.

“God! Can you imagine saying a thing like that to Grady?”

Missy glanced at them, silently ordering them to be quiet. "Now, we're all here to learn to write an autobiography—"

“Some of us already know how," Mrs. Pryce said.

Missy ignored her. "I'll be giving you a lot of instructions—rules, if you wish—but I want to make a disclaimer right now. Rules are, as trite as it may be, made to be broken. But the secret to any good writing is in breaking the rules selectively. I believe—"

“Why are you teaching this class?" Mrs. Pryce interrupted.

“Because I want to," Missy snapped back.

“I hardly think you're a suitable teacher. A woman who writes those dirty books.”

Missy drew herself up and looked dangerouslycomposed. "Have you ever read one of my books, Mrs. Pryce?"

“I wouldn't demean myself."

“Then you have no right to comment on their content, quality, or morality. I'm sorry to say this, Mrs. Pryce, but if you can't keep quiet until you're called on, I'll have to ask you to drop out of this class."

“I've paid my money and I'll stay as long as I wish. That is my right as a citizen." She turned and looked around smugly, as if daring any of them to dispute this.

“Now see here—" Missy began, then caught herself. She looked down at her notes, took a long breath, and went on with her lecture. "The first thing you must determine is the purpose your autobiography is to serve. There are many reasons for writing one, some therapeutic, some instructional....”

Jane was making notes. Why is Priscilla writing this autobiography? To explain herself to her descendants? To clear her conscience? To plead her cause in the eyes of the world? Or to prove a point to the woman she believed to be her mother for so many years? For a little while she was able to put aside the suffocating tensions in the room. Mrs. Pryce didn't exist in Priscilla's world, nor did any of Mrs. Pryce's victims.