“People have danced around you for years because they don’t want your brother to launch a million frivolous lawsuits in their direction,” Marina said. “Well, I for one am done playing stupid where your family’s bad behavior is concerned. I plan on telling the entire world what I saw. This time, no one in Last Chance will be able to talk about it behind closed doors and play dumb in public. They’ll be forced to pick a side. Any bets on how that one lines up?”

Ms. Kitty rose from Helen’s chair and moved over to Marina’s. “Ha! I see that bit of fluff leaving with a different man every week in my bar. A different married man. I’m pretty sure I know where the women in this town are going to stand.”

Patricia dropped the brush she’d been holding on her stand, and Marina could tell she was a second away from losing it.

“A man’s marriage vows are not my niece’s responsibility,” she said.

“Never said they were,” Ms. Kitty said. “Still doesn’t change the fact that the girl’s a sleaze.”

Patricia’s face turned beet red and her jaw flexed. “If the women in this town bothered to take care of themselves, then maybe their husbands wouldn’t go seeking the company of someone who keeps themselves up.”

“Are you saying Marina’s let herself go?” Ms. Kitty asked. “Because I can see your gray hair shining from here and that mustache on your lip is going to rival the drummer in my band if you let it go another couple hours. The bags under your eyes look like you just went shopping with them and you could redirect water flow with the creases in your face. I don’t see any of that on Marina. According to your theory, I guess you best start checking up on your husband, right?”

Patricia whipped her head around and flung her arm out at Marina. “She does too have—”

Then she stopped short and stared. “That’s not possible. You had gray hair all over your crown, and dark circles and wrinkles around your eyes. I know what I saw.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Marina said. “And in the two days since you saw me last, I moved out of my home, dyed my hair, and had plastic surgery. I also recovered from that surgery and that’s why you can’t tell I had any.”

“You did something!” Patricia screamed, coming completely unhinged.

“Yep, she sure did,” Ms. Kitty said. “She looked better than you.”

“Get out!” Patricia yelled.

“With pleasure,” Ms. Kitty said. “I’ll send you a bill for my blouse. This is silk.”

Patricia looked horrified. “I wasn’t talking to you, Ms. Kitty. I was talking to her.”

Marina grinned. “I thought you’d never ask. Come on, Ms. Kitty. I’m happy to give you a blowout and curl at my house. And we’ll see what we can do about that blouse.”

“You’ll be sorry,” Patricia said as they were walking out. “There’s not another job in this town for stylists and without Harold’s money, you’ll be destitute in a week.”