“Like what?”

Hope took her flute apart and pulled felt through the mouthpiece. The things that Allegra was good at—being pretty, being popular—were pretty compromised at that moment.

“Like what, Hope?”

“Like lots of things,” Hope said. “I’m not going to sit here and enumerate your many talents.”

“Because you can’t,” Allegra said. “Because I don’t have any talents. Because I’m a mean-hearted, cheating, lying tramp.”

“Oh, stop it,” Hope said. “You made a mistake, is all. We’re young. We’re supposed to make mistakes, learn from them, and move on.”

“Tell me one good thing about myself,” Allegra said. “Please? One thing.”

“You have a great sense of style,” Hope said.

Allegra was quiet. Her eyes closed. “You’re right,” she said. “I do.”

Hope would have guessed that Allegra’s newfound humility would be short lived and that by the end of the first day of shame, she would have tired of Hope’s company. But on the second week, Allegra had managed to score a volunteer job at the Weezie Library for Children, shelving books part time. Their mother was so pleased that she suggested lunch at the Galley, just the three of them. Allegra not only agreed but actually seemed excited. Excited to be seen in public with Grace and Hope? Well, it would get her out of the house—she would be relieved about that, maybe—and the Galley was fancy, so she would have a chance to dress up. Hope wore her strapless Lilly Pulitzer dress with the turquoise-and-white butterfly print. Allegra wore a jade-green patio dress from Tbags Los Angeles and a pair of Dolce Vita gladiator sandals. Hope had French braided her hair, but Allegra did some messy half-up, half-down style right out of Vogue.

“It’s really not fair how beautiful you are,” Hope said.

Allegra actually seemed embarrassed. “You look just like me,” she said. “We’re identical twins.”

“Except you’re Alice,” Hope said, “and I’m the Dormouse.”

“Stop,” Allegra said. She lifted the end of Hope’s braid and tickled Hope’s nose with it. “We can both be Alice.”

Lunch at the Galley was fun and special, despite Grace announcing every five minutes how fun and special it was. Grace took their picture at the entrance to the beautiful beachfront restaurant, and then, once they were all seated, she had their waiter take a photo of the three of them.

“These are my twin girls,” Grace announced, loudly enough for half the restaurant to hear. “I can’t believe how lucky I am today. This is so special.”

Hope turned to Allegra to shoot an eye roll, but Allegra was smiling at their mother in earnest.

???? Hope thought. Allegra seemed totally into the mother-daughter-daughter luncheon. It was weird. A month ago, if Grace had suggested this outing, Allegra would have flat-out refused. Or if Grace had guilted or threatened her enough, she would have sat sullenly at the table and texted the entire time.

Of course, now there was no phone and no one to text.

Grace ordered a glass of white wine, Allegra a Diet Coke, Hope an iced tea. They did a cheers. Grace said, “This is so fun! This is so, so special. Thank you for joining me.”

“You don’t have to thank us for coming to lunch with you,” Allegra said. “You’re our mother.”

Maybe Allegra is being nice in an attempt to become ungrounded, Hope thought. She was doing such a good job, it might actually work.

Grace ordered the gazpacho and the Gruyère-and-spring-onion omelet. Allegra ordered the lobster salad. Hope ordered the mixed greens with blueberries and goat cheese, and a side of fries. They were seated with a view overlooking the white beach, the lifeguard stand, the blue, green, and yellow umbrellas of Cliffside, and the placid blue water of Nantucket Sound. Sailboats dotted the horizon, and the steamship cut its way over to Hyannis. A breeze lifted the lip of the awning.

“As I’m sure you probably know,” Grace said, “the Boston Globe is coming to do a photo shoot and feature article on our garden next week. So Benton will be around a lot to help me get the garden ready.”

Allegra said, “Benton who?”

“Mom’s gardener,” Hope said. “He’s the one who gave me Lolita.”

“I really like that book,” Allegra said. “I mean, it’s disturbing, but it’s holding my interest. What are you reading, Hope?”

Hope said, “House of Mirth, Edith Wharton.”

Grace said, “I read that a million years ago, during my freshman year at Holyoke.”

“Maybe I’ll read that next,” Allegra said.

Hope thought, Where’s my sister?

They ordered a brownie sundae with three spoons, and Grace got a cappuccino and the check. As Grace paid the bill, Allegra nudged Hope under the table. Mrs. Kraft, their English teacher, was headed straight for them.

“Look at the lovely Pancik ladies lunching,” Mrs. Kraft said. She beamed at the table.

Grace stood up and gave Mrs. Kraft an air kiss. “Hello, Ruth.”

Hope wondered if she and Allegra would be expected to greet Mrs. Kraft in such a manner. Air kiss her English teacher? She couldn’t bring herself to do anything but wave. Ruth Kraft—all the kids called her Ruthie behind her back—had a cumulus cloud of frizzy brown hair. She had been trained as an opera singer, and her classroom trademark was to belt out those phrases to which she wanted to give emphasis. Allegra, especially, liked to imitate her.