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would be needed, architecturally speaking, to make her look a size bigger. She was about to say this, but another glance at Mallory changed her mind. Mallory had wrapped her arms around herself, and actually looked somehow shrunken as she sat, curled up now, on the bench.
    â€œTry it on,” Mallory said again, without opening her eyes.
    Phoebe did. And stood amazed. The little bra fit perfectly and delicately. No, it did not make her look any bigger. But it was nice. And pretty. And maybe even just the tiniest bit sexy too.
    She put on her shirt and looked again.
    â€œAll right. I’ll get it,” she said.
    At that, Mallory opened her eyes. She smiled, though she still looked tired and almost sad. “You’re going to get six, my friend. Two beige, two black, one hot pink, and one blue. They don’t have them all in stock, but that clerk will order them for you. I already asked her.”
    Mallory remained unusually quiet, however, not even crowing in triumph as Phoebe did exactly as she had been told, until the girls had left the store and gotten into Phoebe’s car in the parking lot. Then she reached out a hand and stopped Phoebe from turning on the ignition.
    â€œThere’s something I have to tell you, Phoebe,” Mallory said. “It’s good news, but I’m afraid you’re going to be mad at me. So please don’t be. Please?”
    â€œWhat is it?” Phoebe wasn’t sure if she’d ever heard Mallory sound so—so odd.
    Or maybe she had. The combination of strain and relief was actually similar to how Mallory had sounded way back when, at the beginning of their friendship, on the day that the home health care agency had begun managing Mrs. Tolliver’s care so that Mallory no longer needed to be responsible for it.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” Phoebe said again, because Mallory hadn’t answered her.
    â€œIt’s my brother,” Mallory said. “My brother is coming to live with me and my mother.”
    â€œWhat?” Phoebe stared at Mallory, whose face was averted. “What are you talking about, Mallory? You don’t have a brother!”
    There was a little silence.
    â€œThat’s why you’re going to be mad,” said Mallory. “I’ve never told you about him. But he does exist. He’s my half brother, actually. We have the same mother.”
    Phoebe shook her head in bewilderment. “I’m—I’m shocked!”
    â€œI knew you would be. I’m sorry. I should have told you.”
    All at once Phoebe realized she was more than shocked. She was furious. She unbuckled her seat belt and leaned close to Mallory, who would still not meet her gaze.
    â€œUh, do you care about your brother at all? Does your mother? Just wondering. Since neither of you ever mentioned him before. What did you say his name was again?”
    Now the strain was even more evident in Mallory’s voice, though she was able to turn and glance into Phoebe’s eyes for a second or two.
    â€œOf course I care about him. And I didn’t say his name. He’s Ryland. Ryland Fayne. He and I have different fathers, like I said, so we have different last names. I’m really, really sorry I never told you about him, Phoebe. I can explain.”
    â€œGo right ahead,” said Phoebe. “Honestly, I can’t wait. And by the way, feel free to share any other big secrets you might have been keeping from me. Any year now is fine. Let me just turn the car on so we have some heat while you tell me everything. Everything, do you hear me? Everything! I still can’t believe it! This is so crazy!”
    But her astonishment and outrage faded as Mallory talked and Phoebe watched her. Mallory had always been odd and different, after all. And as she began explaining about her older half brother—Ryland was twenty-four—and how he’d been working in Australia for a few years, and in college in England before