“She cornered me at her party, went on and on about it. Claimed that at first glance she thought she’d seen a ghost. In fact, she was so insistent about how this . . . apparition might have been poor Helen’s double, she asked me if Helen had a sister. I told her no, of course. I imagine she caught a glimpse of some fine-boned blonde about Helen’s age and enhanced the whole thing in her mind. The way she’s going on about it, I didn’t want you to hear some rumor that would cause you any pain.”

“The woman’s an idiot.”

“Well, she’s certainly imaginative,” Barbara said. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, tell me how many people you’re planning to invite.”

“Two hundred, two-fifty,” he said absently. “Just where did Pamela claim to see this ghost of hers?”

“Oh, some island off the East Coast. I’m not even sure of the name, as I was busy trying to change the subject. Something about sisters. Formal or casual?”

“What?”

“The party, honey. Formal or casual?”

“Formal,” he murmured, and let his sister’s voice buzz in his head like bees.

Lulu lived in a saltbox two blocks back from High Street. It stood out from its more conservative neighbors with its lipstick-red shutters and porch. On that red porch was a glider splattered and streaked with a rainbow of paint in a mad pattern that rivaled a Jackson Pollock canvas.

A purple gazing ball stood on the thin swath of lawn and shaded a gargoyle who squatted, permanently sticking out his tongue at passersby.

A winged dragon of iridescent green flew on the roof as a weather vane, along with a wildly striped wind sock. In the short driveway sat a dignified late-model sedan in practical black, and Lulu’s Day-Glo orange VW, circa 1971.

Love beads, from the same era, dangled from the rearview mirror.

Following instructions, Nell parked on the street one house down, then hauled her delivery to the back door. Lulu swung it open before Nell could knock.

“I’ll give you prompt.” And with this, Lulu grabbed Nell’s arm just above the elbow and yanked her inside. “I sent the lot of them out for a walk and don’t figure they’ll be back for twenty minutes. More, if I’m lucky. Syl’s been a pain in my butt since she was born.”

“Your sister.”

“My parents insist she is, but I have my doubts.” Lulu poked her head in the box the minute Nell set it down on the center island. “The idea that I share blood with that pompous, narrow-minded, pissy little twerp gives me the willies. I’m eighteen months older, so we went through the sixties at close to the same pace. Difference is, she remembers them, which says it all.”