Uncle Frank, Aunt Emma, and the cousins never stayed past nine o’clock on Fish Fry nights, and at around quarter till, Aunt Emma called up the stairs.

“Girls! Time to go!”

The door to Vera’s room opened and Vera, Ruby, and Opal emerged, still chatting away, and walked in single file past Vivian and Violet’s room down the narrow hallway, making their way downstairs. Vivian climbed down from her bed holding the glass behind her back and followed them quietly.

At the front door everyone hugged and kissed their goodbyes, the grown-ups making plans for the next Fish Fry. Vivian’s mother pushed the screen door open and hustled the Cutters out, waving her arms after them so the mosquitoes and moths wouldn’t get in. The McGintys stood just inside the screen door and waved to the Cutters until the headlights of the Sheridan disappeared down the road. They all then retreated to the kitchen to sit around the table, and Pawpy would have just one more wee glass of whiskey while Mom scraped the dried crud from the dishes and complained, “I told you it would all dry up like this.”

“What did you and the girls talk about up there, Vera?” Pawpy asked with a wink as he swirled the amber liquid around his glass.

“Oh, never you mind,” Vera answered, tucking her bobbed hair behind her ear and looking at her fingernails in a way Vivian thought made her look like the secretary from the office at school. “That’s girl stuff, Pawpy. You don’t need to know about that.”

Vivian hated to be left out of conversations, so she added, “Yeah, Pawpy, you don’t need to know anything about Mabel Fiske or what that Sylvia Emerich is up to,” and then crossed her arms over her chest and sat back in her chair with a satisfied smile.

“Vivian!”

Vera’s shout brought all eyes to her, then to Vivian, who frowned and pulled her arms tighter against her chest. She liked attention, but not the bad attention.

“Mom!” Vera shouted again. “Vivian was eavesdropping on us!” and she lunged across the table and grabbed the collar of Vivian’s best weekday dress with her office-secretary fingernails.

“Vera Eileen!” Pawpy’s rebuke with middle name included was sharp, and he slammed his empty glass on the table, causing Vera to release her grip on the collar. “You do not attack your sister.”

Vivian was still frozen in place, her eyes like saucers. She very badly wanted to straighten her dress.

“But—” Vera protested.

“You let me talk to her.” Pawpy scooted his chair back, picked up his glass, and motioned with it for Vivian to follow him into the living room.

Vivian smoothed the wrinkled collar of her dress as she walked behind Pawpy, straightening the sailor tie and pulling down on the skirt that’d hiked up in the back. Pawpy seated her on the end of the sofa, in the farthest spot from the kitchen, before going to the liquor cabinet to refill his glass. He then returned to the sofa and crouched on the floor in front of her, taking a sip of whiskey.