“It would be an investment, though.” Lola stared into a thready patch of fabric for a moment and worked her finger into the seat stuffing. “Did I mention I had an interview at Bubble Spa the other day? It went really well. Even though I was fired from Henri Bendel, my old manager still loves me, so I got a really good recommendation. I think I’ve got that one in the bag. I’m hoping they’ll give me twenty hours a week. I could make a ton on commission there. That stuff is easy to sell. Makeup, skin care…I can sell that stuff in my sleep.”

This was true. When it came to selling beauty products, Lola had Jedi powers. She’d only been fired because she took off too many days to go places with her ex-boyfriend, Chip, who didn’t understand that when you had a job, you were supposed to go all of the days you were scheduled to work. But it wasn’t his fault. Lola had done the skipping.

“That’s great,” Scarlett said.

“It’s something. I mean, I like sales. Oh, and you heard we’re going to Lupe’s, right?”

“Yeah,” Scarlett said. “With Marlene. Let the happy fun times begin.”

“Scarlett…” Lola admonished.

The Martins were, on the whole, a fairly open family, but Marlene was one subject no one was allowed to touch. She was the elephant in the room. They all knew that it was Marlene’s medical bills that had caused so many of their problems. Talking about this, ever, in any context, was not allowed. Scarlett even wondered if they were allowed to think about it. The other thing that you really weren’t supposed to mention was Marlene’s personality, which was not entirely composed of sunshine and rainbows. She responded a little differently to each member of her family, with Lola at the top of the pack and Scarlett at the far, far bottom. Marlene’s normal greeting for Scarlett was a contemptuous glance, and (if she was very lucky) a little side-brush out of the way.

“I’m going to go upstairs,” Scarlett said, getting up. “To put on my biggest smile! How’s this one?”

She gave Lola a wide, alarming grin. Lola just shook her head and picked up her cleaning caddy.

Scarlett had nothing to do upstairs. She sat on her bed in the Orchid Suite and watched dust motes float in the sun for a few minutes. She examined the crack in her windowpane that prevented it from being opened more than halfway. She watched her neighbor on her roof deck. The neighbor, who was about seventy, was often proudly naked, especially in the morning. Today she was setting some kind of art project, a big collage, out on a table and spraying it with some kind of substance in an aerosol can.