Peaches

nice to her again, like they had at the beginning of spring break. But at this rate, that seemed impossible.
    The air was so sultry that she was covered with sweat. She’d never felt so hot and miserable. Leeda rolled off her bed and pulled on her turquoise silk robe. It was almost ten. Not too late to call home and ask them to come get her. Leeda got up, feeling the ache in her muscles, and decided it was the only way.
    By the time she made it down to the front stairs, she could already feel the softness of her huge pillow-top bed and the little plastic straps of the pool lounger pressing gently into her suntanned skin while she sipped a sloe gin fizz brought up by the help. She tiptoed past the couch, where Birdie appeared to be already sleeping. The dogs perked their ears at her as she creaked out the door.
    She forgot to think about critters lurking in the grass as she rushed across the lawn toward the supply barn. It didn’t even occur to her someone else would be on the phone until she saw Murphy hunched over the box in the dim glow striping the grass from the light on the Darlingtons’ porch. Leeda came to a stop and waited for Murphy to turn around, but apparently she hadn’t heard her.
    “It’s our house, Mom. I live there too.” Murphy had the phone tucked between her ear and her shoulder, and with her free hands she was scratching at the soft skin on the insides of her forearms with nervous energy. Her voice crackled and cracked, like someone on the verge of crying from sheer frustration—contradicting her body language, which was strung out and defeated.
    “I don’t want him using my stuff,” she said coldly.
    Silence. And then, “Fine. Whatever.”
    Murphy slammed down the receiver and, to Leeda’s shock, plopped down on the grass and began ripping up handfuls of grass, throwing them over her left shoulder.
    Leeda felt like a voyeur, like she was seeing Murphy naked. She tried to take a silent step backward.
    Murphy jolted and looked in her direction, swiping quickly at her eyes. She took so long to gather herself that Leeda thought she should say something.
    “Are you okay?”
    “How long have you been standing there?” Murphy finally growled.
    “Um, just a second?”
    “Ha, right.” Murphy snatched up another handful of grass, gripping it this time instead of throwing it. “Don’t you have a life?”
    Leeda scowled and crossed her arms. “Don’t flatter yourself. This phone’s for everybody.”
    Murphy rolled her eyes. And then she began sifting the grass between her fingers, almost seeming to forget to be mad.
    Leeda softened again. “What’s wrong?”
    Murphy ignored her. She reached into her pocket as if looking for something, then pulled out her empty hand and sighed. She looked up at Leeda. “Jodee’s having a guy move in.”
    “Oh.” Leeda didn’t know what to say. Jodee McGowen had always sounded like an exotic creature to her—someone definitely not of the same species as the Cawley-Smiths. It was hard to think of any sort of comforting words about somebody like that.
    But Murphy didn’t seem to be hoping for any. “I can’t believe it. Every time I think things can’t get worse, they do.” Murphy shook her head.
    Leeda searched for something to offer. “How long have they been dating?”
    Murphy laughed under her breath. “Like, two seconds.”
    Leeda didn’t know what to say. She wanted Murphy to know she wasn’t too sheltered to get it. “God, I know, my sister and her fiancé only dated for six months. And now they’re getting married. It’s so weird.”
    Murphy stared at her incredulously. “I’m talking about my mom. ”
    Leeda stiffened. She was only trying to help. “Well, maybe you should try to be happy for her,” she shot back.
    Murphy laughed. The laugh sounded like rocks in a rock tumbler. “It’ll crash and burn like everything else. My mother is so predictable.”
    “You don’t know. Maybe it’ll work out.”
    “You don’t know my mom.”
    Leeda felt like she did, a little, from everything that she’d heard. She certainly knew Jodee better than Murphy knew Lucretia Cawley-Smith, but what could she say?
    “It sucks, Murphy. I’m sorry.” She waited for Murphy to come back with something rude, but instead she just slumped over. Again, Leeda got the voyeur feeling. She never would have imagined that Murphy could look so defeated or that she would want anyone to see her that way. It was like seeing a hermit crab without a