Her mom tried to get out of bed, but Annie took hold of her. “No.”

“Oh, honey,” her mom said, her body still tense. “There’s more boys in the world than this crazy one and this black boy. You so beautiful. This boy, he’s crazy. Got no family, no money. What about college? You go to college, meet handsome man who’s going to be rich, look after you and be intelligent and have conversations with educated people. From somewhere nice with a nice family. This boy, he not even finished high school. He not going nowhere.”

“He got a job with Saul Hirsch.”

“That Jew will work him to the bone, won’t pay him nothing.”

“Lew’s a Jew; his mom was a Jew.”

Her mom snatched up the sleeve of Annie’s nightdress, tugging it furiously. “You know what the Jews did? You know what the Jews are like? They destroy Europe. They destroy everything. Rats. They should have killed them all at the start; they shouldn’t have waited. They should have killed every one.”

Annie had never seen her mom like this. She looked crazy, her eyes wide, her lips grotesquely wrought. While her dad’s fury was merely gesture and sound—a gas no sooner ignited than used up—this was deep and real, like fire in a vein of coal, burning underground for generations. For all his posturing, her dad could never hurt anyone. But here was a woman who could kill people, who wanted to kill people. Annie had got used to the sad woman looking out the window, but here was a woman she had never seen, whose face was like something out of a nightmare.

She heard her dad clattering up the stairs.

He ran in. “Frank’s back,” he hissed, out of breath. “I hear his truck. I think he’s with someone. What’s he bringing people back here for?”

Scared, he shut the door and joined them on the bed.

As he did so, Annie became aware that she was holding her hands over her belly, protecting what was in it. They all waited and listened, but there was no sound from downstairs, and her dad calmed a little.

“She tell you?” he said, turning to her mom, who nodded.

“Basta.” He raised his arms out in a gesture of extravagant beneficence. “Done is done. If is a boy, we call him Eduardo for my papa, a girl after your mama—what’s your mama’s name?” Her mom didn’t answer. “Anyway, we have the marriage in two weeks, nice reception in church hall. Done.” He made a gesture as of cleaning his hands.

The three of them froze instantly as a tremendous crash came from downstairs. Annie knew immediately what it was. Her mom tended to pile the dishes precariously in the dish rack. Frank had probably knocked into it and everything had slipped to the floor. They heard a woman’s laughter.

Her dad, who was now crouched forward, listening, glanced back at them. “He has a girl here.”