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sat up. “Laundry,” she croaked. “I d’livered it.”
    â€œNot yet. It just stopped raining.”
    Judith rubbed her eyes. “I was dreamin’ I had it done.” She peered through the kitchen door at the empty front room.
    â€œGrandmother’s upstairs. Lil Ma went to get onions.”
    Judith took something metallic and golden out of her dress pocket. “Look what he give me.”
    It was a tube of lipstick. “Who gave you that? That albino boy?”
    â€œMm-hm.” Judith took the top off and twisted the tube. A blunt stick of bright red came out. Cassie had seen the women in church use lipstick. Lil Ma didn’t own any. Neither did Grandmother. Grandmother said the stuff was lascivious . But Cassie liked the way lipstick looked when it twisted up out of golden cases, always with that sharp, tapered point, always thickly colored, like summer fruit. She had seen enough new lipstick to know that Judith’s had been someone else’s.
    â€œWhen he give you that?” Cassie sat in the chair across the table from Judith.
    â€œYestiddy. I ain’t even used it yet. Savin’ it for tonight. We got a date. ”
    â€œYour momma kick you outta the house?”
    Judith let out a tense laugh. “Why you askin’ me about that?”
    Cassie wanted to ask about the feeling and heat . She put her hands in her lap instead. “Grandmother says you pregnant.”
    â€œI ain’t stupid. You know what we do when we’re together?”
    Cassie wanted to touch the lipstick case, to feel its smooth golden sheen. “What?”
    â€œWe sit in the woods in the car and lissen to the New York reddio station. He goes on and on and on about who singin’ what song and when it was recorded and all that kinda junk.”
    â€œThat’s all?”
    â€œMostly that’s all.”
    Cassie lowered her voice. “Grandmother was sayin’ to me … I mean … do you ever feel … like a heat?”
    â€œHeat?” said Judith. “Sure. Them boys want you to feel that. They say, ‘Honey, you hot .’” Judith leaned back with an expert air. “But you cain’t jus’ drop your panties ever’ time they say it, or ever’ time you feel a little somethin’. That’s how a girl kin git kicked out.” She gave Cassie a sly grin. “Now if you’re progeny , it’s a different thing. It don’t matter if you git kicked out.”
    â€œWhat’s progeny?”
    â€œIt’s what you are when someone you related to dies and you in-herit. And once you got some money, you find your own place.”
    â€œ Pro geny.” It wasn’t like Judith to come up with complicated new words.
    â€œI’m progeny,” said Judith.
    â€œHow you figure that?”
    Judith took a folded envelope out of her pocket and put it on the table. It was addressed to Mrs. William Forrest . “This came in the mail,” said Judith. “At home we read it the best we could, but I brought it ’cause you read better. It’s all about progeny.” She opened the envelope and spread out the letter. The paper was thick, the color of cream; the handwriting tight and exact. It was stamped in the top right corner with The Veranda Hotel in fancy script.
    â€œRead it out loud,” said Judith.
    Dear Mrs. Forrest:
    First, let me introduce myself. I am a woman of advanced years who is a distant relative (by marriage) of your family and a friend, in some respects, of your wayward husband, William Forrest. Your Mister Forrest is alive and well here in Remington, Virginia. Though he has spoken of you infrequently, I feel I know you and your family, and as you will see from this letter, I have the greatest sympathy for your situation.
    â€œHe’s in Virginia?”
    â€œKeep going,” said Judith.
    Lately there has been a death in the family, which has brought the division of the