“Oh, my God, is that her?” she heard Jeannie say, the words muffled behind a mitten.

“Shhh,” Margie hissed at Jeannie. “Just hurry up, let’s go.”

Charlotte stood up and brushed the snow from the covers and corners of her books. Her embarrassment at being the subject of the gossip had been quickly replaced with shock. Margie! Charlotte just couldn’t believe something like that had come out of Margie’s mouth. Shit a brick. Gosh. Charlotte wondered if Margie’s mother knew she talked that way. She’d bet Mrs. Betty Miller might shit a brick herself if she’d heard that. Charlotte tried to imagine Margie telling her mother she’d “shit a brick” over something. But everyone knew the things you told your friends sure were different from the things you told your family.

Chapter 30

Vivian told Edward she had to go up to Akron to be with her sister Vera, who was sick.

“Vera?” Edward looked at Vivian like she’d just announced she was going to spend a weekend in hell with Satan.

“Yes,” Vivian simply said. “Vera.”

Vivian knew Edward wouldn’t telephone Vera’s house to check on that, because he disliked her even more than Vivian did.

“Well, what’s she got?” he pressed.

Vivian didn’t answer and just threw him a withering look. She’d seen enough Bette Davis movies to know that sometimes a withering look was all you needed, especially if Gary Merrill had gone and done something really wrong. And she knew the only reason those looks were working was that Edward must’ve been feeling at least a little guilty. But guilty didn’t mean stupid, and now Edward wanted to know what Vera had. Vivian had spent all her time planning the details of this trip and she’d forgotten to invent a believable sickness for Vera; something that her normally workhorse-strong sister might have gotten. Syphilis, Vivian thought, and then stifled a snort.

“Well, I suppose I can finish up work early Thursday,” Edward said.

“No need.” Vivian’s tone was breezy. “I’m going by myself.”

“You’re what?” Edward finally laid the newspaper down and gave her his full attention.

“I am going by myself,” she repeated, with almost Betty Miller–esque enunciation.

Vivian didn’t wait for any more questions from Edward, and she knew there’d be some. She’d never taken the car out of town by herself. She’d started taking the family car without asking when she went to see Donald McAfee out at the chocolate factory, and Edward hadn’t questioned her about it. After that, she’d done it a few more times. Almost as a dare. I dare you to question me about taking the car, you sonofabitch. Just try me. But, for whatever reason, he just let her take the car.

She went straight up to their room and began to pack before she lost her nerve. She untaped the envelope of money from the lid of the hatbox that no longer housed the hat. The black straw hat had been passed down to Charlotte ten years earlier for her dress-up box, and the hatbox had become a catchall hiding place for anything she didn’t want Edward to find. Her cigarettes, her little brown notebook, and the money she’d saved for this plan of hers.