Marlene continued to protest, asking him to come in, requesting a ride in his car, on his boat…

“Come on, Marlene,” Scarlett said, trying to pull her back while balancing the huge flowers. This did not improve Scarlett-Marlene relations, and when Chip eventually left, she stormed inside.

“It’s nice to see him,” Spencer said, watching the car disappear around the corner. “Really. I miss him.”

“I felt bad for him,” Scarlett said.

“He can go home and suck on a credit card.”

Scarlett looked at the flowers. Chip had chosen them with care—they really were perfect for Lola.

“Sorry,” Spencer said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “I forgot. I guess you would feel bad for him now. Special circumstances.”

He did a quick up-and-down check of her overall demeanor and expression and didn’t look completely satisfied with the result. Spencer must have assumed that her pale and stricken expression was still the aftereffects of the day before. It was—but it was also having Donna Spendler on their doorstep.

“You never punched Chip,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said. “I kind of wish I discovered my violent streak earlier.”

He locked up his bike, and they went inside. Scarlett set the flowers down on the desk. Lola came down the stairs a moment later and reeled at the sight. She kept a radius of several feet around them, like they might reach out for her.

“Chip brought them,” Scarlett explained.

“Why didn’t you get me?”

“He didn’t really want to stay.”

Lola looked to Spencer accusingly.

“I did nothing,” he said, holding up his hands. “Besides, why would you want to see him? You broke up with him. Don’t you want me to keep him away?”

“That’s not the point,” Lola said.

“It’s not?”

“Just…forget it.”

She stormed into the dining room, leaving Spencer to shake his head in bafflement.

“Someone’s in a bad mood,” he said. “Always at me.”

The elevator opened, and Mrs. Amberson joined them. She had changed into a rare pair of jeans and a formfitting tank top.

“These are lovely,” she said, flicking a petal as she walked by. Scarlett watched with revulsion as Spencer’s gaze followed her along.

There was a palpable tension around the dining room table, not entirely caused by the blackened pizza. Lola was still miffed over some imagined offense. Marlene was annoyed in general because of Chip. Scarlett was sick for several different reasons. Mrs. Amberson was fidgeting in her seat.

“You know,” she said, “I would just kill for a drink. I’m not sure if that’s possible, but…”

“We don’t have a bar license,” Scarlett’s dad said. “But you’re our family guest for dinner. I’ll just make you whatever you’d like.”

“A double whiskey would be lovely,” she said with her most toothpastey smile. “It’s a bit heavy for summer, but it’s made with whole grains, and that’s what counts. It’s a celebration today, after all. The show is about to open! Just two more days!”

“Is the show going well?” her mom asked, chopping ineffectually at the pizza with a butcher’s knife. “Can we expect some tickets?”