She sat down in the sand next to me, her legs bent to both sides in the shape of an M. I’d been told to correct children when they sit like that, that it wasn’t good for their spines. But I said nothing to this little girl. She seemed to know best what was good for her. I’d sat like that as a child constantly anyway. My spine was okay as far as I knew. “Do you know any stories?” she asked me.

“Sure,” I said. “Why do you ask?”

She rolled her eyes. “I want you to tell me one!”

“Let me think,” I said, tapping my chin with one finger.

“Wait,” she said, shoving her hand in front of my face. “I don’t want it to be one of those stories about how I shouldn’t do something.”

“How you shouldn’t do something?”

“You know, about how no one will believe you if you lie. Or, like, how if you don’t help make it, you’ll never get any bread.”

“You don’t like cautionary tales,” I said.

“What do you call them?”

“Cautionary tales,” I repeated.

She rolled her eyes again. “It’s just not true,” she said. “Something bad doesn’t always happen.”

“In fact, you’re right,” I told her.

She threw her arms up dramatically and flopped back onto the sand. “Thank you,” she said. And then, sitting back up, “I think you’re nice. Will you be here tomorrow?”

“Yes,” I told her. “Tomorrow morning.”

She stood, untucked the hair from behind her ears, then tucked it back in.

“Can you think of a good story and tell me then?”

“Sure,” I said.

She stumble-ran away down the beach.

WHEN I RETURNED TO THE HOUSE LONNIE WAS PERCHED IN AN alcove by the kitchen, on an antique chair, the crescent of the telephone receiver cradled to her cheek. It was a position I would see her in every morning from there on out, planning every detail of the Labor Day party.

There were general misgivings from the men as early as that morning. James paused in front of her—her robe sliding open, the end of a pen in her mouth—and made a questioning face. Lonnie mouthed the name of someone—whomever she was talking to—and he mouthed back, “Why?” holding up his hands.

She didn’t respond, but turned away from him, toward the wall, letting loose a boisterous laugh into the phone. “I don’t believe it! I don’t believe it!” she screeched.