Right?

“Margs,” Matty said, turning the keys over in his hand, “these are my keys.”

“What?” I asked, all my happy, relieved feelings suddenly crashing down to earth.

“Really?” she asked, taking them back and turning them over. “Huh. I guess I should have labeled them or something.” Matty closed his eyes for a moment, like he was summoning patience. “What?” Margaux asked with a shrug. “Blame Mom for naming us all with the same letter.” She cuddled Brad’s face. “Who’s my good boy? Who’s my happy dog?”

“So you don’t have Mallory’s keys,” Matty said, in a tone I’d heard Joy use with her, like trying to pin down a butterfly. “Not even at home?”

“No,” Margaux said, then paused, like she was remembering something. “You know, I think I did have them, but I gave them to Mom. She wanted a set of all of ours, just in case we had an emergency.” She looked at us and smiled. “Which is kind of what this is! So good planning on Mom’s part, huh?”

“You couldn’t have told us this before?” Matty asked.

“Ms. Lampitoc?” A girl wearing overalls, but somehow making them look incredibly chic, approached her timidly. “We’re getting questions about the next look.…”

“Right,” Margaux said, and it was like everything that was dreamy and fuzzy about her fell away. She handed Brad to Matty, then headed over to the farthest rack of clothes, motioning for us to follow. “Look, just call Mom,” she said, already flipping through the rack as I hobbled up. “And…” She stopped and frowned at me. “What’s wrong with your feet?”

“Oh,” I said. Matty shot me an I told you so look. “I—um—don’t think I broke my shoes in enough.”

Margaux winced in sympathy. “I have been there,” she said. “This one time I was in Tulum, and I forgot where I parked my bike… or maybe someone stole it.” She paused and tilted her head to the side, like this possibility had never occurred to her before. “Huh.” She grabbed a long, silky slip dress in red, and then what looked like basically the same dress in champagne, and handed them to the girl in overalls. “Options for Eight A,” she said. “There’s alternatives if it’s clashing with the painting. Let me know.”

“Absolutely,” the girl said, taking the dresses carefully.

“I’m going to call Mom,” Matty said, walking a few steps down the hallway.

“Tell her to come by,” Margaux called over her shoulder. “The more the merrier!” The girl in overalls visibly paled when she said this, but Margaux didn’t seem to notice. “Come on,” she said to me. She paused by the food table and picked out a small bag of regular Ruffles from the basket. “Here,” she said, handing it to me with a smile. I took them, a little baffled. “Oh,” Margaux said, frowning. “Sorry—I just thought you might be hungry and remembered you liked them. From that time when we were getting snacks at the deli by the apartment?”