Amy reached up, touched her throat. “I thought you left, late for Joe’s company party.”

“Yeah, he’s gonna kill me, but I just couldn’t tear myself away.” She looped her arm in Amy’s and began to guide her down the hall.

Nick followed them into the parlor. His wife sat in a chair in the corner, alone, sipping oh so quaintly from a glass of white wine.

Carol Anne turned to him. “Oh, look, there’s your wife. Weren’t you looking for her?”

Nick hoped his piercing glare at Carol Anne communicated the signal he intended: Go away.

Eliza spotted him, but seemed to register him in slow motion. She stood and grabbed the side of the chair, smiled and swayed more than walked toward them.

They were in a corner, up against the open French doors that led into the room. Eliza wobbled over and stood in front of them.

“Hi, honey.” Nick leaned in and kissed her cheek.

Eliza waved a fluttering, unsteady hand at Amy. “Isn’t that a beautiful dress she’s wearing, all silver and sparkly?” She looked at Carol Anne. “I had a silver dress on tonight. It ripped.”

Nick felt sheer panic; his wife was drunk as hell. He’d seen her drunk only once before, at a family reunion attended by an uncle she hated for various offenses. The awful things she had said, and didn’t remember afterward, were still part of Sullivan family legend.

Nick grabbed Eliza’s elbow and attempted to steer her out of the room. She resisted, falling back into a semicircle with Amy and Carol Anne. Carol Anne reached her hand up to steady Eliza, then looked at Amy.

“Honey,” Nick said, “let’s go find Lisbeth and head home.”

“You’re so late. Did you finally come to show her . . . ?” Eliza shook her hand, thumb and forefinger together as if holding a piece of paper.

“Eliza, come with me.” Nick held out his hand to his wife. Her face was pale, her makeup now appearing in stark contrast to her skin, like a child who had broken into her mother’s cosmetic case and rubbed on all the wrong colors, in all the wrong places.

“No . . . I don’t think so, Nick. If you want to tell her, tell her with me here. I would just love to see her reaction to my dastardly deed. You’re not the one who gets to have all the fun, you know.”

Amy backed up, banged into the wall.

Carol Anne reached for her. “Come on, Ame. Let’s help Celia pick up some of this trash. She doesn’t seem to be able to keep up with it.”

Eliza’s hand shot out in the space between them, patted Nick’s butt, felt the front of his pants.

Nick backed away from her. “What are you doing?”

“I know you have them on you. You must. You’ll never give them up.”