“No, no,” Samantha said. “I’m full. I haven’t eaten that much for dinner in a month.”

Linda sat nearby, ate half a cookie. “Oh, Sam, before you got here we were telling Kathryn about that Easter dinner. Our last one together. Remember that?”

“Remember it? It was fantastic.”

It had been a wonderful day, Sam recalled. They’d sat outside around a driftwood table she and Jimmy Newberg had made. Piles of food, great music from Jimmy’s complicated stereo, sprouting wires everywhere. They’d dyed Easter eggs, filling the house with the smell of hot vinegar. Sam tinted all of hers blue. Like Daniel’s eyes.

The Family wouldn’t survive long after that; six weeks later the Croyton family and Jimmy would be dead, the rest of them in jail.

But that had been a good day.

“That turkey,” Sam said, shaking her head at the memory. “You smoked it, right?”

Linda nodded. “About eight hours. In that smoker Daniel made for me.”

“The what?” Rebecca asked.

“That smoker out back. The one he made.”

“I remember. But he didn’t make it.”

Linda laughed. “Yes, he did. I told him I’d always wanted one. My parents had one and my father’d smoke hams and chickens and ducks. I wanted to help but they wouldn’t let me. So Daniel made me one.”

Rebecca was confused. “No, no…he got it from what’s-her-name up the street.”

“Up the street?” Linda frowned. “You’re wrong. He borrowed some tools and made it out of an old oil drum. He surprised me with it.”

“Wait, it was…Rachel. Yeah, that was her name. Remember her? Not a good look—gray roots with bright red hair.” Rebecca looked perplexed. “You have to remember her.”

“I remember Rachel.” Linda’s response was stiff. “What’s she got to do with anything?”

Rachel was a stoner who’d caused serious disharmony within the Family because Pell had spent a lot of time at her house doing, well, what Daniel Pell loved to do most. Sam hadn’t cared—anything to avoid Pell’s unpleasantries in the bedroom was fine with her. But Linda had been jealous. Their last Christmas together Rachel had stopped by the Family’s house on some pretense when Daniel was away. Linda had thrown the woman out of the house. Pell had heard about it and promised he wouldn’t see her anymore.

“He got the smoker from her,” said Rebecca, who’d arrived after the Yuletide blow-out and knew nothing about the jealousy.

“No, he didn’t. He made it for my birthday.”

Sam foresaw disaster looming. She said quickly, “Well, whatever, you made a real nice turkey. I think we had sandwiches for two weeks.”

They both ignored her. Rebecca sipped more of the wine. “Linda, he gave it to you on your birthday because he was with her that morning and she gave it to him. Some surfer dude made it for her but she didn’t cook.”

“He was with her?” Linda whispered. “On my birthday?”

Pell had told Linda he hadn’t seen Rachel since the incident at Christmas. Linda’s birthday was in April.