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fabulous trade and earn a lot of money and—” he broke it off just in time. He had almost said, “And have a lot of fun.” He knew the response to that statement. Emily would demand to know what kind of fun he expected her to have, stuck in Westerly without him.
    But she could hardly come along. They would be on the move, so she wouldn’t be able to earn money to help. His salary wouldn’t keep them in motels. She had to stay and eventually he’d come home. It seemed to Matt this was straight and reasonable. He could not believe they were arguing about it yet again.
    And he had been looking forward to this party so much. They all needed a final summer night: a good-bye not just for Anne, but for all of them. And he, too, needed an audience—people who would rejoice for him, who would clap him on the back, and in whose eyes he would see envy.
    “I want you to wear the ring,” he said finally. He tried to kiss her but she moved toward the car. “Can we drive back to your house and get it, Em?”
    “No.”
    “Why not? Please wear it. For me.”
    “No.”
    “Why not?” He was yelling now. People in other cars looked their direction.
    “Because I threw it away. It doesn’t exist anymore. It wasn’t worth anything to me. So there, Matthew O’Connor. You’re not the only person who can throw things away.”
    Kip’s brothers ranged in age from six to sixteen. Their appetites were unbelievable. You no sooner filled the station wagon to the brim with food and unloaded it all over the kitchen, so that every shelf and cabinet was overflowing, then the boys had finished it and were complaining of hunger.
    Both parents worked, and all five children had definite chores. Kip was the grocery shopper. George was head cook. She decided on hot dogs, cole slaw, baked potatoes, milk (the boys drank gallons each day), fried apples, and mint chocolate-chip ice cream. Nobody could complain about that. George disliked shredding cabbage, so, feeling kind, Kip bought a bag of pre-shredded.
    She kept glancing over her shoulder. It was very strange, but she had a feeling that Molly had followed her here to the grocery. You knew you watched too much television when you began thinking things like that.
    She had dropped Molly off first. Then she and Emily drove on to Em’s, with Emily oddly silent, gripping her towel like a life raft. “You okay, Em?” Kip had asked.
    “Sure. Fine. Heat got to me.” Emily got out of Kip’s car and Kip drove quickly away to complete her family chores, get home, get changed, and reach the docks in time to organize the party for Con. She had promised to get everybody well hidden, so Anne would suspect nothing when she strolled along the river for a last view of Westerly.
    Kip got in what looked like the quickest checkout line and which, of course, turned out to be the slowest. When she was finally through, she pushed her cart of brown paper bags out into the parking lots, her eyes flickering over the other cars, looking for Molly.
    This is ridiculous, Kip thought. What would Molly follow me for?
    She saw herself driving madly through unknown alleys, whipping down dark lanes, following narrow twisting streets, trying to throw Molly off.
    Of course, Westerly was laid out on a grid without a single twist or alley, so it was an unlikely chase.
    Kip was so annoyed with herself she refused to look in her rearview mirror the rest of the way home, lest she pretend it was Molly she saw behind her.
    The party was Con’s mother’s idea. Con would never have thought of it himself, and once his mother mentioned it, Con wanted to ignore her. “I don’t want to give her a party,” Con protested. “I’m so mad at her, I’d rather—”
    Well, he could hardly tell his own mother he would rather kill Anne than give her a party. He turned his back on his mother instead and stared out through a broken window into a side yard. They had been in this latest house only ten days, and remodeling had hardly begun. Anne