Liza looked at her face in the mirror. Tonight was the groundbreaking gala, and she hardly recognized herself. “Deya, you’re a magician. Where did my pores go? I did not know you were so good!” Liza’s dark eyes sparkled. The liner and mascara brought out the doll-like roundness of her eyes. Her lips were full and deep red, and her eyebrows were perfectly arched. Her skin was a glowing warm brown that looked inviting and lush. LeDeya had a gift of transforming anyone into a beauty, including herself. Liza sometimes wondered if LeDeya had left any time to work on the inside when she took such pains to craft her own facade.

Liza thought she looked good . . . until she saw her older sister. Taller, sweeter, prettier, better—Janae was all “-er” than Liza.

“You are so . . . gorgeous,” LeDeya and Liza said in unison. The word didn’t seem right for what Janae looked like in her green pageant gown with her hair all swooped up in a classic roller set. She looked like Dorothy Dandridge in Technicolor.

“You guys are on the payroll.” Janae blushed prettily. They all looked at one another for a moment and squealed. “Oh, Liza, I know how you feel about the politics of all of it, but I’m looking forward to the party. I just don’t get to dress up like this anymore,” Janae said.

“I know,” Liza whined. A stab of guilt pinged at her side. “I thought I wouldn’t want to go, but the more I saw you get ready, the more excited I became. I’m happy for you.”

“Not just for me, Liza. You could meet someone too,” Janae said.

Liza’s mother had always had a powerful belief that a beautiful girl and a lonely, rich man were an instant recipe for love, and Janae shared their mother’s penchant toward the fanciful. Liza thought it was endearing only when she wasn’t one of the victims.

LeDeya snorted. “Fat chance. She’s still got dirt under her fingernails from gardening with Granny at the Harambee. She is not trying to meet anyone.” Her little sister’s false eyelashes swooped up and down like feathered fans.

“Liza . . .” Janae said warily. “That’s not dirt, that’s marker.” Janae folded her arms. “Whatever you’re planning, I’m not saving you from Mom this time.”

“What?” Liza said, trying to look innocent. “Janae, can you trust me for once? We’ll just go to have fun.” Liza looked away on the last part. They would only try to dissuade her if they knew.

“Go wash your hands, then,” Janae scolded.