"Well, there's a word I don't hear from my little sister's lips too often," he said, with smug satisfaction. "Something's got into both of us this morning."

He was right. She found his rage igniting her in a way she'd never allowed it to before. Twins they were, and in so many ways similar, but he had always been the more openly rebellious of the two. She had played the quiescent daughter, concealing the contempt she'd felt for the Grove's hypocrisies because Momma, so much its victim, still needed its approval. But there were times when she'd envied Tommy-Ray's open contempt, and longed to spit in the eye of propriety the way he had, knowing he'd be forgiven his trespasses upon payment of a smile. He'd had it easy, all those years. His tirade against the town was narcissism; he was in love with himself as rebel. And it was spoiling a morning she'd wanted to luxuriate in.

"We'll talk tonight, Tommy," she said.

"Will we?"

"I just said we would."

"We have to help each other."

"I know."

"Especially now."

He was suddenly hushed, as though all the rage had gone from him in a single breath, and with it all his energy.

"I'm afraid," he said, very quietly.

"There's nothing to be afraid of, Tommy. You're just tired. You should go home and sleep."

"Yeah."

They were at the Mall. She didn't bother to park the car. "Take it home," she said. "Lois will run me back this evening."

As she went to get out of the car he took hold of her arm, his fingers gripping her so hard it hurt.

"Tommy— " she said.

"You really mean it?" he said. "There's nothing to be afraid of?"

"No," she said.

He leaned over to kiss her.

"I trust you," he said, his lips very close to hers. His face filled her sight; his hand held her arm as though he possessed her.

"Enough, Tommy," she said, pulling her arm free. "Go home."

She got out, slamming rather than closing the car door, deliberately not looking back at him.

"Jo-Beth."

Ahead of her, Howie. Her stomach flipped at the sight of him. Behind her, she heard a car-horn blare, and glanced back to see that Tommy-Ray had not taken the wheel of the car, which was blocking access for several other vehicles. He was staring at her; reaching for the handle of the door; getting out. The horns multiplied. Somebody began to shout at him to get out of the way, but he ignored them. His attention was fixed upon Jo-Beth. It was too late for her to signal Howie away. The look on Tommy-Ray's face made it plain he'd understood the whole story from the smile of welcome on Howie's face.

She looked back at Howie, feeling an ashen despair.

"Well lookee here," she heard Tommy-Ray say behind her.

It was more than despair; it was fear.

"Howie—" she began.

"Christ, was I dumb," Tommy-Ray went on.

She tried a smile as she turned back to him. "Tommy," she said, "I want you to meet Howie."

She'd never seen a look on Tommy-Ray's face like the look she was witnessing now; hadn't known those idolized features capable of such malice.

"Howie?" he said. "As in Howard?"

She nodded, glancing back at Howie. "I'd like you to meet my brother," she said. "My twin brother. Howie, this is Tommy-Ray."

Both men stepped forward to shake hands, bringing them into her vision at the same time. The sun shone with equal strength on both, but it didn't flatter Tommy-Ray, despite his tan. He looked sickly beneath the veneer of health he wore; his eyes sunk without a gleam, his skin too tightly drawn over his cheeks and temples. He looks dead, she found herself thinking. Tommy-Ray looks dead.

Though Howie extended his hand to be shaken Tommy-Ray ignored it, suddenly turning to his sister.

"Later," he said, so softly.

His murmur was almost drowned out by the din of complaints from behind him but she caught its menace clearly enough. Having spoken he turned his back and returned to the car. She couldn't see the mollifying smile he was putting on, but she could imagine it. Mr. Golden, raising his arms in mock-surrender, knowing his captors didn't have a hope.

"What was that about?" Howie said.

"I don't exactly know. He's been odd since—"

She was going to say since yesterday, but she'd seen a canker in his beauty moments ago that must have been there always, except that she—like the rest of the world—had been too dazzled to recognize it.

"Does he need help?" Howie asked.

"I think it's better we let him go."

"Jo-Beth!" somebody called. A middle-aged woman was striding towards them, both dress and features plain to the point of severity.

"Was that Tommy-Ray?" she said as she approached.

"Yes it was."

"He never stops by any longer." She had come to a halt a yard from Howie, staring at him with a look of mild puzzlement on her face. "Are you coming to the store, Jo-Beth?" she said, not looking away from Howie. "We're already late opening."

"I'm coming."

"Is your friend coming too?" the woman asked pointedly.

"Oh yes...I'm sorry...Howie...this is Lois Knapp."

"Mrs., " the woman put in, as though her marital status were a talisman against strange young men.

"Lois...this is Howie Katz."

"Katz?" Mrs. Knapp replied. "Katz?" She removed her gaze from Howie, and studied her watch. "Five minutes late," she said.

"It's no problem," Jo-Beth said. "We never get anyone in before noon."

Mrs. Knapp looked shocked at this indiscretion.

"The Lord's work is not to be taken lightly," she remarked. "Please be quick." Then she stalked off. "Fun lady," Howie commented.

"She's not as bad as she looks."

"That'd be difficult."

"I'd better go."

"Why?" Howie said. "It's a beautiful day. We could go someplace. Make the most of the weather."

"It'll be a beautiful day tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that. This is California, Howie."

"Come with me anyway."

"Let me try to make my peace with Lois first. I don't want to be on everyone's shit list. It'll upset Momma."

"So when?"

"When what?"

"When will you be free?"

"You don't give up, do you?"

"Nope."

"I'll tell Lois I'm going back home to look after Tommy-Ray this afternoon. Tell her he's sick. It's only half a lie. Then I'll come by the motel. How's that?"

"Promise?"

"Promise." She began to move away, then said: "What's wrong?"

"Don't want to...kiss...kiss me in public, huh?"

"Certainly not."

"How about in private?"

She half-heartedly shushed him as she backed away.

"Just say yes."

"Howie."

"Just say yes."

"Yes."

"See? It's real easy."

In the late morning, as she and Lois sat sipping ice water in the otherwise deserted store, the older woman said: "Howard Katz."

"What about him?" Jo-Beth said, preparing herself for a lecture on behavior with the opposite sex.

"I couldn't think where I knew the name from."

"And now you remember?"

"A woman who lived in the Grove. 'Way back," she said, then turned her attention to wiping a ring of water from the counter with her napkin. Her silence, and the effort she gave to this minor mopping, suggested she was happy to let the subject drop if Jo-Beth chose not to pursue it. Yet she'd felt obliged to raise the issue. Why?

"Was she a friend of yours?" Jo-Beth asked.

"Not of mine."

"Of Momma's?"

"Yes," Lois said, still mopping, though the counter was dry.

"Yes. She was one of your momma's friends."

Suddenly, it came clear.

"One of the four," Jo-Beth said. "She was one of the four."

"I believe she was."

"And she had children?"

"You know, I don't remember."

This was the closest a woman of Lois's scrupulousness came to lying. Jo-Beth called her on it.