Peaches

and she reached her hand into her pocket, pulling out a very ripe, half-eaten peach.
    “Here.” Murphy held the peach out, a few drops of juice landing on Birdie’s knuckles. “When he comes by, you should nail him with this.”
    Birdie looked at her, wide-eyed. “No!”
    “Murphy,” Leeda said, low and tense.
    “Come on.” Murphy shoved the peach into her hand, grinning. It squished against Birdie’s fingers. “You know you want to.”
    Birdie looked at Leeda, who shook her head. “We’ll get busted,” Leeda hissed. Birdie felt the texture of the pit in her hands, buried in the thickness of the meat of the peach.
    “Trust me, you’ll feel much better,” Murphy said.
    The men continued to approach. She could see the gleaming white of Horatio’s outfit through the holes in the bushes. Birdie gripped the peach in her fist. She felt a giddy nervousness that made it almost impossible to keep from laughing out her anger, especially when she looked at Murphy’s expectant, gleeful face. “The pool will be Olympic standard,” Horatio was saying.
    “Birdie, don’t,” Leeda whispered.
    Birdie acted fast. She stood up, lobbed the pit over the bush toward Horatio’s back, and ducked.
    “Eugh!”
    Murphy snorted and clapped her hand over her mouth, thenclutched the branches as they stared through the spaces in the bushes.
    Horatio had his hand on the back of his head and was leaning forward slightly. He clasped the back of his head, then looked up toward the sky, then around at the bushes, then down at the ground. He smiled at his friend and laughed fakely, and it came out so awkward that Birdie cringed for him. He picked up the peach and looked over toward the bush again, then the paltry patches of shrubbery and small trees in the opposite direction, his face going fire-engine red. He shook his shoulders, straightened them, and walked over to a caddy who was on his way across the grass. He started pointing around the area.
    Murphy burst away from the bushes, keeping low to the ground. Birdie and Leeda followed, stumbling over themselves, moving on inertia.
    They sprinted across the grass, breaking through the small patches of trees, and though they veered behind the clubhouse and out of Balmeade’s sight, they didn’t stop till they’d reached the road that ran along the back of the resort. It wasn’t until they got there that Birdie realized she had peed her pants. And then it was only because Murphy fell on the ground, laughing hysterically and pointing, while Leeda hovered over her, panting and strained, looking like she wanted to step on Murphy’s head.
    On February 14, 1988, Lucretia Cawley-Smith and her huband, both drunk on too many sloe gin fizzes, accepted her cousin Cynthia’s offer to stay the night at Darlington Orchard. A few weeks later, Lucretia, who wanted only one child and was more than satisfied with the one she had, reacted to her first wave of morning sickness in the same way she met most of life’s surprises—with a raised eyebrow and a feeling of discontent that fate hadn’t checked with her first.

Chapter Seventeen
    L eeda checked herself one last time in the bathroom mirror, smoothing out the lines of her silver dress and running a few curls around her fingers to make them curvier. Out in the hall Murphy and Birdie were leaning against a wall, waiting for her—Birdie in a typically understated loose cotton dress and Murphy in one that was typically juicy, skimming her thighs in tiny pleats. They both looked beautiful.
    Of course, at the moment it pissed Leeda off that Murphy looked beautiful. Leeda had been giving her the freeze-out since the peach incident, but by all appearances, Murphy couldn’t care less. She’d given up teasing Leeda about it. At first Murphy had called her a priss, pointing out several times that they hadn’t gotten caught. But Leeda almost wished they had, just so Murphy would be wrong.
    “You look nice, Bird,” Leeda said, shooting Murphy a cool glance. Murphy seemed unfazed.
    Outside, the workers were still gathered around the barbecue. As the girls stepped outside, everybody turned to look at them. Several people let out wolf whistles. The women allsmiled. Leeda shifted awkwardly, but she was pleased and touched. Just by the smiles on their faces, she could tell Birdie and Murphy were too.
    As they started across the lawn, two faces loomed out at Leeda. One was Rex, who hadn’t even showered yet. He was driving separately because Leeda