“I’d be surprised if this house even lasts through the winter,” Karen said, pitching the crust over her shoulder.

“What is that supposed to mean?” asked Helen.

“It’s shameful,” Karen said. “It’s an embarrassment.”

“What is?” asked Helen.

“You heard me,” Karen said. “The house. It’s a ringing example of poor craftsmanship.”

“And whose fault is that?” asked Helen, as ready as if she’d rehearsed.

“Yours,” Karen said.

“Karen,” I said.

“You know it, too, Lily,” Karen said. “You’ve known it all along. We should have said something earlier. But Helen never stopped talking.” Perley leaned off my nipple to watch her. He was nearly seven months old, but he hadn’t yet seen this Karen. The Karen he knew kept her head down and held her tongue, let Helen have the last word. But this woman, the one scowling up at Helen, was the Karen I knew well, who spoke plainly, who was happy only when she was angry and fighting.

Helen began talking fast. “It’s your fault, Karen, because you should have been the lead carpenter. You should have been the lead carpenter, but you’re trying to make me feel good about myself or you’re afraid of me or something.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Karen said.

“But you wouldn’t speak up,” Helen kept on. “You wouldn’t speak up, and how do you think it felt for me to make mistakes, so many mistakes, with you watching me make them? How do you think that made me feel?”

“This isn’t about your feelings, Helen,” said Karen. “This is about two things only.”

“What two things?” asked Helen.

“Running out of money and not having any shelter for the winter,” said Karen.

“We have the camper,” I said. “And you could go back to work at the clinic.”

“Please shut up,” Karen said.

“Just stay out of this, Lily,” Helen said.

Karen turned back to Helen. “And I don’t care if you feel good about yourself. I just want to know who’s in charge. Is it me because I’m not full of shit and I actually know how to build things or is it you because this is your place?”

“This is not my place, it’s our place, our place, our place, okay?” Helen said. Karen smiled. Helen said, “If you don’t believe me about that, it’s never going to work out here. Who’s in charge? I don’t know who’s in charge. Why does someone have to be in charge? Why can’t we work together?”

“The house is a piece of shit,” Karen said.

“It’s not that bad,” Helen said. “The roof doesn’t leak.”

“You don’t know that,” Karen said.

“I’m nearly one hundred percent sure,” Helen said.

“Is that the same as you being half a carpenter?” asked Karen.