“I don’t want Mrs. Vogel. I want you.” Raylee’s palm was soft and sweaty, and she gripped Sherri’s hand as hard as she could.

When she returned home, Sherri stood with her duffel bag on her shoulder holding everything she thought she’d need and looked around the grim apartment above the store, taking inventory of the incredibly high ceilings, the transom window above the front door, and the view of the square. The spider plant sat atop the oak plant stand. It would need to be watered—who would do that? There was the Steinway that needed to be tuned and the threadbare arms on the scratchy, matching rose-colored wing chairs with doilies on the headrests. Her parents’ framed black-and-white wedding portrait hung above the davenport like a portal to a different time. How could they both be gone? It was hard to remember that her mother had once been buxom and full of spirit; that her father, slight and inward even as a younger man, would have been both terrified and relieved at the prospect of an end to his solitude by getting married.

Sherri wished someone, anyone, were there to say goodbye to her, but then again, nobody in their family made proper exits. Her father’s stroke was sudden, and her mother slipped away when Sherri least expected it. She’d left her in her bedroom so she could cook dinner, and Muriel died in the time it took to fry an egg.

CHAPTER THREE

There were six other girls in Sherri’s training group, and each possessed her own “look,” as Tina had called it, although Sherri wouldn’t have ever guessed they were Bunnies if she had to pick them out of a crowd. Gathered together in the lobby before the start of the tour in their heavy wool sweaters and jeans, they all seemed to have come from good homes, whatever that meant, good enough that they felt the need to explain to each other why they were there—to save money for college or a car, or to help their families get by. But when it was Sherri’s turn to say why she’d applied at the resort, without a trace of apology she said, “Because it sounds fun.”

Maryellen was short, muscular, and cheerleader cute with her French braids secured by ribbons, while Lucy was rugged and self-assured. She taught horseback riding at her parents’ stables and had ruddy cheeks, a flat butt, and looked like she could kick a horse in the ribs without hesitation. Rhonda was sweet and tiny, with a pixie haircut and elfin ears. Sherri’s mother would have said she was so small she fell off a charm bracelet. She seemed as terrified about becoming a Bunny as a young virgin sold into an arranged marriage. She’d brought along a stuffed-rabbit toy and her own sewing machine.