floor　and　opened　the　heavy　stainless…steel　fridge。　Inside　were　piles　of　fresh　produce；　containers　of

orzo　salad；　and　curried　salmon　filets　garnished　with　yellow　currants。　Where　were　the　cold　leftover

chicken　nuggets；　or　at　least　the　PB　and　J？

Behind　her；　Edgar　and　Nils　began　a　wrestling　match　in　the　middle　of　the　floor。　Vanessa　usually

let　them　do　this；　hoping　they　would　tire　themselves　out　like　the　puppies　she？d　once　filmed　at　the

Union　Square　dog　run。　She？d　been　hoping　to　catch　a　dogfight　or　see　one　of　those　rat…eating　hawks

the　city　had　released　swoop　down　to　pick　up　a　Chihuahua；　but　had　been　forced　to　settle　for　puggle

playtime　instead。　She　figured　that　eventually　the　boys　would　flop　onto　their　backs　like　the　dogs；

their　tongues　hanging　out　to　the　side；　panting。

？Boys！？　Ms。　Morgan　barked；　and　then　smoothed　her　knife…pleated　khakis。　Her　ivory　tank　top

was　trimmed　with　a　thick　brown　satin　sash。　Looking　at　her　weirdly　taut　face　and　defined

cheekbones；　it　was　hard　to　tell　if　she　was　thirty…two　or　fifty…five。　？You　can　head　upstairs　to　get

ready　for　dinner。？

She　turned　back　to　Vanessa；　the　wooden　heels　of　her　huarache　sandal　wedges　clacking　on　the

floor。　？Vanessa；　we？ll　be　having　the　salmon　filets；　and　if　you　could　just　throw　together　a　little

fresh　salad；　maybe　a　dill…yogurt　sauce　for　the　fish？　That　would　be　lovely。？

Wait。　Throw　together？　What　did　Vanessa　look　like；　the　。　。　。　the　。。。

Help？Oh。　Right。　Except　she？d　never　cooked　anything　but　boiled　ziti　with　jarred　Ragu　in　her　life。

？You　got　it；？　Vanessa　told　her　as　she　started　searching　for　dill　in　the　produce　drawer。　Upstairs　she

could　hear　the　boys　making　explosion　noises　and　then　scream