Eleanor fled across the street into an aggressively air-conditioned praline shop, minimalist and empty of customers. Her perspiration instantly froze, causing a violent shudder.
“Would you like a sample?” asked an angular woman with flat black hair.
“Sure,” Eleanor said, straining to seem like a normal patron. The woman handed her a frosted pecan. The tears began. Eleanor turned her back and stood too close to a red shelf filled with jars of praline sauce.
The door jingled. Ivy grabbed Eleanor’s arm and spun her around.
“You have no idea how hard it is for me to be caught between you and Bucky,” Ivy said, her face pleading.
“Between me and Bucky?” Eleanor said. “What did I do to him? Fly down here and miss my final animatic of the season? Drag my husband to a christening even though we’re both atheists?”
“It’s not what you’ve done to him,” Ivy said. “It’s what you’ve done to me. You didn’t come down for my birthday.”
Before Eleanor could process this, Ivy backpedaled. “I know, I know—I never expected you to. But it’s how Bucky thinks.” She gave a worried sigh, then in a rush, “He’s never gotten over you ruining our engagement party.”
“We’re still on Cachepotgate?” Eleanor said. The praline she’d been clutching had turned to goo in her hot palm.
“It started before,” Ivy said. “When you walked into the party. You saw how people were dressed and you asked where everyone was going.”
“I did not,” Eleanor said, remembering the moment clearly. “I certainly thought it because it looked like opening night at the opera. But I know for a fact I didn’t say anything.”
“Bucky heard you.”
With that, a line had been drawn. Eleanor drew lines for a living. She knew one when she saw one.
She walked to the register and forced a smile. “May I have a napkin, please?”
The woman reached under the counter and tore off a paper towel. Eleanor scrubbed the sticky sugar off her fingers. She placed the pecan in the towel and handed it back. “Thank you.”
“Oh no!” Ivy came around to see Eleanor’s face. “Are you mad?”
“This might get loud, and that wouldn’t be fair to the praline shop.” With that, Eleanor pushed past her sister and out the door.
“Okay, let’s do this,” Eleanor said to Ivy out on the sidewalk. “Where’s the scrapbook I made you? Where’s my goddamn wedding present?”
“As you know, we expected the derringers.”
“You do realize this isn’t you talking?” Eleanor said.
“They were Mom’s,” Ivy said. “They belong to me as much as they belong to you. They’re the only things left of hers. You just had them lying around your apartment.”
“What was I supposed to do? Ship them to you care of Mestre Mike’s yurt?”
“Bucky and I got married at John Tyler’s house so it should have been obvious,” Ivy said, unshaken.
“You got the derringers!” Eleanor said. “Last time I checked, they were mounted on your wall.”
“We should have gotten them before.” Ivy raised her face in defiance. It was a peculiar gesture for her, one Eleanor had never seen.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Eleanor said. “Where’s The Flood Girls?”
“Bucky and I were both offended by The Flood Girls.”
“Ivy, I’m warning you: don’t.”
“We don’t know what’s so charming about a bear crashing around a house while children are sleeping—”
“It’s our life, Ivy. It’s us.”
“—or waiting in a car while Ted Bundy is on the loose. And why on earth would you make me relive Parsley being hit by a car? You know how much I loved that dog.”
“I loved Parsley too!” Eleanor said. “Okay, I get it. Bucky feeds on insults and now he’s got you doing the same.”
“I finally found a man who treats me the way I deserve,” Ivy said. “You’re allowed to have that, but I’m not? And where was Joe during the christening?”
“Now Bucky has a problem with Joe?”
“Eleanor, everybody noticed Joe wouldn’t come inside.”
“Joe was tormented by nuns as a child and he’s not a fan of the Catholic Church. You know that!”
“You,” Ivy said. “Mocking the namesake of our son in front of tourists. Oh, Eleanor, even I couldn’t defend your sarcasm. I can see it in your eyes, when you’re going in for the kill. You delight in your nastiness and you always take it out on those weaker than you. I’m done with it and so is Bucky.”
“I have a message for that walking joke—”
“Eleanor,” Ivy said. “You’re talking about my husband. Bucky is my husband.”
“Tell him he’s won,” Eleanor said, reddening. “The two of you will have to find someone else to mine for grievances. Because this is the last time you see me. Watch how serious I am.”