“All her things, who is getting them?” her mom asked.

“Didn’t have anything except those chickens, really. Can we keep the puppy?”

“No. I got enough to do.”

Her papa came into the kitchen holding a package, which he put down on the table.

“Another package,” he said. “What’s this package?”

“Towels.” Her mom continued to thumb through the catalog.

“Towels? We need more towels? Towels for the whole town. Maybe is flood? If flood we have towels. Come to our house, we have towels for everyone.”

“Papa,” Annie said.

“Your mama she sits here all day ordering towels and plates and little porcelain hoboes. Where are the hoboes?”

“In the picture, they don’t look like this,” her mom said.

“Sebastiana, do we need more towels?”

Annie didn’t answer. She didn’t like to be pitted against her mom. She had taken to hiding the things her mom ordered, piling them into a corner of the basement: boxes full of towels, sheets, exercise equipment, and figurines.

“Why we need towels when we have our daughter?” Taking Annie’s hair in both hands, he made as if he were drying his body with it, wiping it over his chest and under his arms.

“Papa!” She laughed.

He pinched her cheek. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders he shook her, almost pulling her off the stool.

“Watch her foot, Sal,” her mom said.

He bit her earlobe and rubbed his coarse cheek against hers. “Look our daughter,” he declared, finally letting go and stepping back. “Most beautiful girl in the world.” He opened his arms out proudly: “From the catalog of my loins. Special delivery.” He gestured toward Annie. “Basta!”

The back door opened and Frank came in. It hurt Annie to see him wince at the sight of their father. Why was he always so serious? Even in baby pictures he seemed anxious. But now that anxiety had mixed with anger, distorting his face. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen him smile. He had never been able to hide what he was feeling, which was almost always anger and outrage. No difference for him between big injustices and little ones. Everything was met with equal fury.

“And here is special offer, half off, no warranty, damaged goods—spends all time with girlfriends instead of helping his papa in the store. Where you been, eh?”

“Had to take Seth’s Studebaker back to him.”

“What, you take it one piece at a time?”

“Sal, just leave him alone,” her mom said.

“Just leave him alone, eh? And leave you alone, eh? Mondo boia!” He snatched the catalog, spilling her coffee.

“What you looking for in here, more towels?”

“Another husband.” She met his eyes directly now. He made as if he were going to hit her, but she wasn’t afraid and didn’t flinch.

Cupping both hands over his crotch, he shouted, “Sei la regina puttana della merda!”

Frank went to leave the kitchen, but their father took hold of his shoulder. Frank shoved his hand off and walked out. Their father followed.