Helen was quiet after this shabby dodge. She perked up as they walked along the river and nattered about what flowers Ariel thought were prettiest, what she most loved to eat, how it was she could read so many books. By the time they reached the pool, Polly’s eyes were hot and her throat was swollen, and she wanted to flop on the stained concrete and cry like a toddler.

But Helen the mermaid, Helen the fish, was in the water before Polly was through the locker room door. Connie crooked a finger. Ah god, thought Polly, trying for numbness.

“You should find out why Graham left Seattle.”

“Do you know?”

“He won’t tell me, but he might tell you.”

“You talked to Graham?”

“We went out for coffee. I’m trying to be a good Christian.”

“I don’t believe you,” said Polly.

“I want him to admit what he did,” said Connie.

Because it was parade day, Polly was going to work at the restaurant for the first time since the accident. Tourist season, arriving with a bang and sirens, changed everything. Livingston’s hotels were full, left turns impossible, and most people wearing cowboy hats were imports. If locals didn’t own or tend a ranch, or run a realty company, they usually wore baseball hats, perhaps because of the wind. East Coast visitors who’d gotten up too early wandered around the brick downtown waiting for stores to open, peered suspiciously at art gallery windows and menus, while West Coast visitors got up late and shivered until noon. Every day, somewhere in Montana, a hundred people tried a chicken-fried steak for the first time in their lives and thought, depending on the gravy quality: Why?

The parade was always held July 2, and it signaled the beginning of the three-day rodeo and vast, ebullient public enthusiasm and drunkenness. Maude usually waved a snooty arm at this aspect of the town, but this year she was intent on going, and Ned put chairs out early in front of the restaurant door. Reliable highlights included the Shriners riding toy bikes, bagpipers, and the always-tipsy Statue of Liberty crew, celebrating a hundred years of drapery. In the old days, Clarence Darrow marched and Sally Rand showed up with her husband, rodeo champion Turk Greenough. These days, Livingston usually pulled in the governor, a senator, Montana’s sole House rep, and too many people too proud of their antique cars. The rodeo queen and her court, the high school band, religious groups, Crow dancers, a defiant Planned Parenthood contingent. Josie was a Liberty this year and was surly when Polly didn’t embrace the idea. Polly was a bad sport, but it was her nature. The only time she’d enjoyed dressing up on Halloween, she’d been a voodoo doll.