Shy’s drunk, hairy Latin teacher shimmied up to the bar, his horrible neck tattoo glistening sweatily. “I love your work,” he slurred at Roy. “And your daughter’s da’ bomb,” he added creepily.

Roy winced and squared his shoulders. “She’s your student, and I’m her father,” he said haughtily.

The Latin teacher laughed, taking Roy’s bluster for a joke. The smiling orange-and-blue baseball on his neck bobbed up and down. Black chest hairs squiggled out of his V-neck. Wendy was right. He was a pervy git who needed taking down.

Roy lunged over the bar and growled into the teacher’s face. “You keep your smarmy tattooed mitts away from my daughter.”

“Hey, sorry man.” The Latin teacher held up his hands and backed up a step. He swallowed nervously.

“Roy?” Peaches scolded from behind them. “No fighting in the schoolyard, please.”

Roy whirled around. His face was hot and his armpits were damp. “Right. Sorry,” he mumbled, although he wasn’t sorry at all. He felt quite good actually. He might even have punched the guy. The Latin teacher had retreated. Problem solved.

“Please don’t bother trying to find her.…” The Zombies song was just wrapping up.

“Oh wow, my favorite.” Peaches grimaced when she noticed the puke. She held her nose, grabbed a roll of paper towels, and began ripping them off the roll and tossing them at Stuart and Tupper’s feet. “What did he eat for lunch?”

“Tuna fish,” Tupper slurred, drooling on Stuart’s shoulder.

Wendy, Mandy, and Manfred began to sing that sad, sultry song “Lovefool” by the Cardigans. Stuart recognized Mandy’s honey-sweet voice right away. He admired her over the sea of heads as they helped Tupper out of the bar. Glittering green eyes, sleek black hair, milky white skin, sexy red mouth. If he wasn’t already married to her he would have hit on her.

“I better tell Elizabeth.” Peaches threw down more paper towels and searched the crowd for the monolithic blonde. But Elizabeth had disappeared.

“I’m okay,” Tupper said, his knees sagging.

Roy and Stuart grasped his elbows. Peaches led the way to the back door, and the three staggering men followed.

The doorway to the Paulsens’ neat brick carriage house was old-fashioned and narrow. Roy had a key. Leaving Peaches and Stuart out on the stoop, he unlocked the door and led Tupper inside. They staggered through the dimly lit living room to the gray linen sofa, where he released his hold on Tupper and watched the man recede into the soft cushions, hands between his knees, head bowed.

Across the room, Elizabeth was sprawled in an armchair, asleep. The red paint on her overalls looked like blood. The cat was curled tight against her thigh, yellow eyes in slits, obviously ecstatic that she’d come home. A huge jug of maple syrup stood at her feet.