“Can’t be too careful,” Charlie said cheerfully, smiling like she hadn’t registered the insult.

“So, wife number two must be your mother.”

Charlie nodded. “Yup. And old muffdiver over there, she must be yours.”

A sharp intake of breath from the other knockoff blonde.

Now Charlie had Cybill’s full attention. Through clenched, braces-perfect teeth, she said, “My mom’s name is Muffie.”

Charlie, still smiling, voice still cheerful: “Oh, my bad. I just assumed Muffie was short for something. So, is there anything stronger around here to drink than champagne?”

For a long beat, Cybill just stared at Charlie.

Then knockoff number one said, “There’s liquid Drano in the utility closet. Why don’t you go chug some?”

Cybill turned to the girl. “Sasha,” she said sweetly, “shut the fuck up.” Then she turned back to Charlie. “Follow me. Let’s see if we can’t scare up something with a slightly higher alcohol content. Alice, you come, too. Sasha, Bianca”—the blonde knockoffs perking up at hearing their names—“hold this.” She tossed her purse at them. Without waiting to see if either girl caught it, she pivoted on the tip of her pink, extremely high heel—her face might have been a bit of a let down, Charlie thought, but her legs sure weren’t—and began walking in the opposite direction.

Charlie turned to her sister and shrugged. “You want to go with her? Could be fun.”

Alice looked at Charlie, then she tilted her head to the side and pressed her lips together, jutting the lower one out slightly so that her chin dimpled: sad clown face. Alice and Charlie had been making this face at each other for as long as Charlie could remember, and though neither girl could recall who invented it, it was definitely Alice who had given it its name. The emotion it expressed was both unhappiness and an apology for that unhappiness, like you knew you were supposed to be pleased by something, by some person or situation, but for whatever reason, you weren’t, hence, you were a sad clown.

Charlie laughed. “Oh, come on. It’s not like we have to take any of this seriously. It’s not like this is real life for us.”

Alice chewed the inside of her cheek. Looked at her sister, looked away.

“Labor Day, Allie,” Charlie said softly.

When Alice nodded glumly back, Charlie tossed her purse to Bianca since Sasha was already holding one. Then she led Alice by the hand over to Cybill, on the other side of the room, waiting for them, and looking none too delighted about it.

• • •