“You do?”

“Yes.” Phoebe wiped at her tears.

“Even though I’ve been a brat?”

Phoebe smiled weakly. “A real brat.”

“Nobody’s ever loved me before.”

“Your mother did.”

“Really?”

“She loved you a lot.”

“I don’t remember her. Bert said she was a bimbo.”

Phoebe gave a choked laugh. “She was. So was my mother. Those were the only kind of women Bert married. He liked them blond, sexy, and not too smart. We got our brains from him, Mol, not from our mothers.” She pulled at the tissue in her hands. “But your mother was one of the sweetest women I ever met, and she loved you so much. I ran away when you were just an infant, but I still remember how she’d hold you for hours, even when you were sleeping, just because she couldn’t believe she had you.”

“I wish I remembered her.”

“She was a nice lady. She used to tell me stories about being a showgirl. So did Cooki, who was Bert’s second wife. They were both sweethearts.”

Molly was drinking in her every word. “Tell me about them.”

She sniffed and dabbed her nose. “Well, Bert found all three of his wives in Las Vegas. None of them started out with anything except good looks, but they were exceptional women. Sometimes I think bimbo is just another word men made up so they could feel superior to women who are better at survival than they are.” Pooh jumped up in her lap and she stroked her soft fur. “Instead of feeling sorry for themselves, all of Bert’s wives worked hard to make something of their lives. They survived bad men, lousy working conditions, bouts of bronchitis from skimpy costumes, and they did it with a smile. Your mother wasn’t bitter, not even when she figured out what kind of man Bert really was.” She gave Molly an unsteady smile. “You’ve got sequins and fishnet tights in your heritage, Mol. Be proud of it.”

Her sister, with her solemn face and splendid brain, was clearly entranced with the idea. As Phoebe watched her, a horrible thought flickered through her mind, driving out her own misery.

“You have photographs of her, don’t you?”

“No. I asked Bert a couple of times, but he said he didn’t have any.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t think to ask you!” Getting up from the bed, Phoebe went into her closet and returned a few moments later with one of the cardboard boxes she’d had sent from New York. While Molly watched, she turned out the contents on the bed to search for what she wanted. “I know it’s in here somewhere. Here it is.” She drew out the gold dime-store frame with a photo of Lara sitting on a deck chair by the pool holding a newborn Molly in her lap. Lara’s blond hair was tied back from her face with a floral scarf and she was smiling down at Molly, who was wrapped in a pink blanket.