“No,” Violet answered. “I’m just happy.” She smiled and emptied half her glass. No, but I have a daughter somewhere, just like you, Juliet. And I’m going to find her. Oh, and did I mention there’s a great-looking younger man who’s crazy about me? And my husband’s not beating me anymore. I’m pretty happy right now.

“Well, if you’re not pregnant I want the name of your face cream,” Juliet answered. “Now, let’s talk about shoes.” The women smiled and followed Juliet’s lead into more comfortable conversation.

After an hour of picking at salads and competitive dessert refusal, Violet wrote Tolly’s membership number on the check. Each woman thanked her graciously. Violet knew some of them would write thank you notes and mail them as well.

Genny had once whispered to her, “Know why Junior Leaguers don’t go to orgies? Too many thank you notes to write.”

She told Genny she’d meet the rest of them at Parisian; she was going to stop in the ladies’ room. Genny kissed Violet’s cheek and walked out behind Juliet, carrying her imaginary train.

When Violet emerged ten minutes later she spotted Tolly’s white Corvette across the parking lot, as far from other vehicles as possible. He was terrified of real damage to the car she’d supposedly wrecked. Maybe he cleared his schedule to play golf. She sighed and climbed into the plush leather of the Cadillac, hoping he wasn’t making love to a glass of bourbon in the bar. Violet turned the ignition key and looked up to see her husband emerge from the woods, holding the hand of a woman she didn’t recognize. She was wearing a sleeveless pink golf shirt and capris, laughing and running her fingers through her long auburn hair. The woman stopped and tugged on Tolly’s hand to halt him. Violet saw him look around for people, then cradle her head and kiss her for what seemed to be three or four minutes. She stared in disbelief until the truth dawned into a smile on her face. Tolly had just handed her grounds for divorce. She could be rid of him and financially independent, too. Violet waited until they were seated in the Corvette and facing away. She shifted the car into drive and headed to join her friends and exercise Tolly’s BankAmericard until it was exhausted and begging to go home.

Violet heard Tolly drive into the garage and tried to remember exactly what she’d planned to say. She greeted him by pointing to a suitcase and a bag full of his toiletries on the polished wood floor. “I know about your affair, Tolly. I saw you at the club with that woman. All I ask is that you take your things and leave. I can’t have you here in this house.”