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selective this year. Eleanor,” she said, with a nod in my direction. “I ran into her at Swenson’s last week. Positively brutal, she said.”
    My father closed the paper and tilted back in his chair; he wore the expression of deliberate concern he always assumed when my mother sounded unhappy. “I’d like to know what would recommend a girl better than tennis,” he said finally. “Seems healthy enough.”
    “Rebecca?” My mother appealed to me.
    “I think a few girls from school might be going to the beach later on this afternoon,” I said slowly. “I could make a call or two.”
    My mother gave me the smile she reserved for those rare occasions I surprised her. “The thing about tennis, Walter,” she explained with exaggerated patience, “is that it’s exclusive. The girls have no opportunity for mingling . It’s all fine and good to spend time at the club, and under ordinary circumstances…” She let her voice trail off. “But these are extraordinary times, don’t you agree? What with Rebecca headed off to college so soon and all. Extraordinary measures. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” She turned to me again and I sat up very straight, doing my best to look ready, my entire being bent toward mingling.
    “Alex said they’ll have dance class for all us first-years this fall.”
    “You see, Walter?” She beamed at me.
    “What I don’t understand is how it won’t be chaos,” I said. “There are twelve girls in our house alone.”
    “And you’re all going to have the most fabulous time.” A few pieces of hair had come loose from my mother’s chignon; they floated by her ears like strands of corn silk, moved gently back and forth by currents of air. “Just think of all the new friends you’ll make!”
    “I don’t need new friends.”
    She looked at me reproachfully. “Sweetheart.”
    “I don’t.”
    “ Really, darling, it isn’t healthy—”
    “It must be difficult,” my father interrupted.
    “Sir?”
    “Your Alexandra,” he said gently. “You must miss her.”
    I swallowed against the sudden lump in my throat. “I do.”
    “And she’s been a wonderful friend to you over the years,” my mother said briskly, her needle darting in and out. “But you’ll want to be careful.”
    “I don’t know what you mean.”
    She tied a deft knot, snapping the thread with her teeth. “There.” She held up the pillow in triumph, the new cover stretched taut across the front. “Isn’t that better? I never cared for that old blue ticking. Too Frenchy, and I don’t mean that in a good way.” She gave me a conciliatory smile. “I’m not saying anything we all don’t already know, darling. All your father and I have ever wanted is for you to enjoy yourself. Spread your wings.”
    “Flap, flap.”
    “Hmm?” She frowned. “Besides, Alexandra can afford to be careless. Theater camp, for goodness’ sake! I can only imagine the kind of young men who attend that sort of thing. Hardly husband material.” She clicked her tongue. “Eleanor must be furious.”
    “They’re eighteen,” my father protested mildly.
    “And I’ve put two and two together, and last time I checked they’ll be nineteen soon enough, then twenty.” My mother’s face could look quite stern, those light eyebrows knit together in consternation. “Am I to be persecuted for thinking of the future? Why, when I think of how Daddy—” Her eyes filled with tears.
    “Eloise.” My father looked at me desperately. “Please.”
    “But I have you,” I said, too loud. “I have both of you.”
    “That’s right,” my father said, soothingly. “You’re both right. It’s just, Eloise, don’t you think she’s a little young to be thinking about marriage?”
    My mother stood then, tucking the pillow under her arm and wrapping her spool of thread and needle into the sewing pouch she carried around the house in the pocket of her housecoat. “If everyone’s already made up their mind,” she said, wounded.
    My