“It seems that Lulu already has the cooking under control, sweetie,” said Fee. “But if Charlie is serious, maybe you could find some other way to be useful? This is very kind indeed of you, Charlie, if you’re sure it’s okay?”

“Don’t do it, Charlie,” said Lulu. “You’ll regret it. We’ll both regret it.”

“The spare room’s just sitting there,” said Charlie. “Let’s let her move in, Lulu. We can be the Haverstock Hill branch of the women’s collective.”

“Charlie! I love you!” cried Sophie. She ran to Charlie and flung her arms around her neck, peppering her with kisses.

“Ew.” Charlie, who was rarely tactile, distanced herself with a stern arm. “Get off me or you can’t come to live with us.”

“Good,” said Lulu. “Keep kissing her, Sophie.”

Sophie withdrew, disappointed. “Call yourself Italian?” she grumbled. “You’re supposed to be Mediterranean and affectionate.”

“I don’t call myself anything,” said Charlie. “I just don’t have any sisters. Women with sisters are always kissing each other at home, and then when they go out in public, they can’t control themselves and become a menace to society.”

“I don’t kiss my sisters,” said Lulu. “I’m not even sure I like them, let alone want to go smooching over them.”

“Yes, you do,” said Charlie. “You do it all the time, and you don’t even know you’re doing it.”

“What, like this?” Lulu cast a dramatic head onto Emma’s breast, seized her hand, and kissed it noisily. “Yum, smoked salmon.”

“You see,” said Charlie. “You’re doing it right now.”

“No, I’m not, I’m showing you what I don’t do. Pass me a bagel, Mom, she’s made me want seconds.”

“They’re lucky to have sisters, aren’t they, Charlie?” said Fee. She poured more coffee into her mug and passed the pot hospitably to their guest. “I always wanted one, but I was an only.”

“I wanted a brother,” said Sophie, casting a reproachful glance at Emma and Lulu. “He’d have brought all his friends home for me to meet.”

“Instead of having to put up with your sister’s boring friends offering you free bedrooms in Belsize Park,” said Lulu. “Thanks very much.”

“You wouldn’t want to meet my brother’s friends,” said Charlie. “They’re serious weirdos.”

“You have a brother?” said Sophie hopefully.

“He lives in San Francisco,” Lulu told her. “Maybe you should go and join him—she just said he likes weirdos.”

“Mom! She’s being mean to me again.”

“Be nice to each other, girls,” said Fee. “Remember what Grandma Jo used to say. A happy family makes a happy life.”

The effect of the name on her two younger daughters was instant. Lulu groaned and slumped across the table, her tongue lolling in mimicry of anguished death; Sophie hunched down in her chair, squinted her eyes, drew her lips across her gums, and puffed at an imaginary corncob pipe. “Dag-nabbit it, Ma, I done shot me a nice fat possum for my tea, but them thar pesky raccoons done ate him up first, so I done ate them instead, and they’s bitter-tastin’.”