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“How long is this going to go on? What have you done to me?”
    Izzy turned the comb under as she got to the ends of Audra’s hair. “Me? Only you are to blame for this.” She grunted, disgusted. “I have no idea how long. This, I think, is just the beginning. Glory wasn’t at the funeral. Would you like to hear why?”
    Audra didn’t answer. She closed her eyes.
    “Lovely, plump Glory. Not plump anymore, of course. Now she’s slim, but she’s still sticking everything she can into her mouth. What a useless girl … but never mind that. Glory called this morning, weeping, as if something had happened to one of her horrible children, but in fact her finger had fallen off.”
    Izzy stopped yanking the comb through Audra’s hair and tossed it on the bed. She got up and crossed the floor to the window again and peeked out. Nothing moved outside.
    When she turned back, Audra was watching her, even more anxiously.
    “Her finger fell off. On her left hand, I think she said,” Izzy continued. “Now that was not my doing. Maybe I tinkered a bit with you out of anger, but this—” she waved her hand over Audra’s bed “—was not me either.
    She got close to Audra. “He’s angry with us. And that is your fault. Chick’s too, of course, but lucky for her—and I mean that—she’s not here.”
    Audra shook her head. “No. It could be anything. Some trick or error.” To Izzy’s ears her voice was unpleasantly strained. It sounded … guttural.
    Izzy picked up the compact and popped it open. She rubbed the pad over the powder and began to pat it on Audra’s face. Audra flinched. “Stay still,” Izzy commanded, and the woman stilled, her eyes wide, looking into her tormentor’s. It was disconcerting, and Izzy couldn’t help but pause before she stroked more makeup onto Audra’s face.
    “Anyway, I have a surprise for you, and since you’re not asking, I’ll just tell you.” She found the lipstick on the bed and rolled it up. The pink tip of it was vaguely obscene. “Smile,” she said to Audra. Audra didn’t. Izzy applied the lipstick to her pale lips anyway.
    “Do you blot?” Izzy tugged a tissue from the box on the table and folded it, holding it to Audra’s mouth. Audra turned her head away. Izzy grinned meanly.
    “Don’t you look pretty,” she said. She narrowed her eyes. Audra did not look pretty at all. Izzy pawed around on the bed for the mirror, finding it under a fold of sheet. She fondled it. Should she show Audra herself in the mirror?
    “Who’s coming?” Audra finally asked.
    Izzy smiled. “With your being ill, I thought it prudent to notify your next of kin. Paula’s coming home! Isn’t that wonderful?”
    Audra groaned. “No, Izzy,” she said. She tried to wriggle to the edge of the bed, to get up, and it was painful to watch. Her movements were jerky and clearly hurt her.
    Izzy put her hand on Audra’s shoulder. “Enough. It’s too late—she’s coming, and her daughter too.”
    Audra froze, breathing hard from the effort. “No, you can’t. Send them home. She’s a mother, for crissakes—”
    Izzy laughed softly. “A mother. Isn’t that how this all started? We’re all mothers.” She found her purse and fished inside for her own lipstick, found it and put some on. She pressed her lips together. “Autumn Born,” it was called. She didn’t think she liked it much.
    “She’s not staying. I won’t let her.” Audra’s voice was a rasp, her face distorted by a mix of anger and fear.
    Izzy shrugged. “Numbers, numbers, Audra. We need numbers. Think of Glory and her fat finger falling off and multiply it by what we have left. You included.”
    “Leave her be.”
    “Pull yourself together. They’ll be here any minute.” Izzy went back to her vigil at the window. “Besides, dear, I think Paula’s had some trouble in the city. I think she’s running home to mother. I think that’s just lovely.”
    She knew Audra couldn’t see her smile, but Izzy hoped