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but just loud enough for Ruth and me to hear, “If I ever move in, this ugly wallpaper will have to go.”
    Beside me, Ruth stiffened dangerously. I yanked her through the door into the kitchen just in the nick of time. Whether Ruth dropped or threw the dessert plate, I’ll never know, but it hit the baseboard near the dishwasher, splashing melted ice cream all over my mother’s hand-braided rug. “How dare she!” she raged. “That’s it! I’m out of here! It’s high time I found a place of my own.” Her face was an alarming shade of red. “I’ve been nothing more than an unpaid servant ever since Mother died.”
    “Ruth …”
    She shook off my restraining hand and took a step toward the back door. “Forget it, Hannah.” I could tell Ruth was itching to pack her bags and get out of there. Right away. This minute. Slam the door and leave us all standing there, gaping, with dirty dishes piled sky high in the sink.
    I folded Ruth into my arms. It was like hugging a marble column. “Cool it, Ruth,” I whispered againsther ear. “If you run out on him now, it’ll leave the house wide open for Darlene to move right in.”
    Ruth began to tremble. “I’m going to kill her,” she muttered.
    I increased pressure on my sister’s back, squeezing hard until the trembling stopped. “OK now?”
    Ruth nodded.
    “Ready to go back in there?” I pointed toward the dining room.
    “Maybe.”
    With my hand against the small of her back, I urged Ruth into the dining room. Except for the dirty dishes, the room was now empty. We followed Daddy’s deep baritone into the living room where we found him seated next to Darlene on the sofa. Georgina sat in Mother’s chair, thank goodness; if Darlene had taken it, Ruth would surely have gone ballistic. I perched on the arm of the love seat next to Paul while Ruth chose to stand, lounging against the doorframe.
    We had interrupted something.
    Daddy looked at me. “Hannah, I’ve decided to move in with Darlene.”
    No wonder everyone was sitting there stiff as statues. “But …” Ruth began.
    Darlene raised a hand. “He’s not going to stay, girls. We’ve talked it over. He’s just here to pick up his shaving gear.”
    “Daddy?” Ruth was blinking rapidly, close to tears.
    “It’s all settled.” Darlene reached over and took my father’s hand, drawing it into her lap. No one spoke for several moments. The clock on the mantel ticked as loudly as the telltale heart.
    Ruth turned on our father. “Can’t you talk? Does she talk for you now?”
    Daddy sank back into the cushions. He looked like a scolded puppy—sad, confused, and a little frightened. “I have to live my own life.”
    “I don’t believe this! After all I’ve—” Ruth’s mouth snapped shut.
    “Ruth, I love you. And I appreciate everything you’ve done, I really do. But it’s time for me to do what I want for a change.”
    “But you’re not even married!” Georgina protested. “It’s not right!”
    Darlene gazed serenely at our father. “I think somebody over seventy can live where and with whomever he wants.”
    “Georgina’s right,” Ruth said. “It’s a sin, Daddy. Go ahead and ask her. Ask Darlene. What’s her precious pope going to say?”
    I stared in wonder. Since when did Ruth, our New Age flower child, care about religion? I was getting dizzy from the verbal Ping-Pong.
    Darlene’s head snapped around, taking in each one of us in turn. “You don’t like me. None of you does.” Her voice broke. “You’re all against me.”
    Daddy wrapped a solicitous arm around his suffering girlfriend.
    “To be real honest,” Georgina commented, “we don’t know very much about you.”
    “So, why are you treating me like … like dirt?”
    “Don’t be silly,” Georgina soothed. “We’ve only seen you once before. How can you possibly say that?”
    “I sense the coldness. What is it?” She looked directly at Ruth. “Do you think I’m a gold digger or