start. And you might be more inclined toward that sort of socializing than a quiet dinner for two. But if you prefer the latter, I find my calendar free the night after next."
"A basketball game might be interesting."
LILY SAT ONthe Bokhara in Roz's bedroom, banging the buttons of a toy phone with a plastic dog. Lily's mother had her head in the closet.
"Just try the eyeshadow, Roz." Hayley's voice was muffled as she pawed through clothing. "I knew it was the wrong color for me when I bought it, but I just couldn't stop myself. It'll look awesome on you, won't it, Stella?"
"It will."
"I've got enough makeup of my own for three women," Roz objected and tried to concentrate on using it. She wasn't entirely sure how her personal space had come to be invaded by females. She just wasn't used to females.
"Oh, my God! Youhave to wear these!"
Hayley pulled out the pants David had talked Roz into buying - and which, to date, had never been on her body again. "I certainly don't."
"Roz, are you kidding?" She waved them at Stella. "Look at these."
Stella did. "I couldn't get my hips in those with a crowbar."
"Sure you could, they stretch." Hayley demonstrated. "Besides, your hips are perfect, seeing as you have breasts. But these are too long for you. You know that sweater I got for Christmas, the red angora David gave me? It'd be fabulous with these pants."
"Then you take them," Roz suggested.
"No, you're wearing them. Watch the baby a minute, okay? I'll run and get the sweater."
"I'm not wearing your sweater. I have plenty of my own. And for heaven's sake, this is just a basketball game."
"No reason not to go looking like the complete babe you are."
"I'm wearing jeans."
Deflated, Hayley dropped onto the bed beside Stella. "She's a hardcase."
"Here, I'll use your eyeshadow. We'll consider it a compromise."
"Can I pick out your earrings?"
Roz shifted her gaze in the mirror until her eyes met Hayley's. "Will you stop nagging the skin off my back?"
"Deal." Hayley leaped up, and when Lily reached toward her, scooped the baby on the fly. Settling Lily on her hip, she began to go through Roz's everyday jewelry box one-handed. "What top are you wearing?"
"I don't know. Some sweater or other."
"The green cashmere," Stella told her. "The dark green mock turtle, and that great black leather coat? The knee-length."
Roz considered as she worked on her eyes. "Fine. That'll work."
"All right, then . . . these." Hayley held up silver spiral dangles. "Shoes?" she asked, turning to Stella.
"Those black leather half boots with the stubby heel."
"You get those, I'll get the sweater, and - "
"Girls," Roz interrupted. "Scoot. I can handle the rest of this myself." But she leaned over to kiss Lily's cheek. "Y'all go play somewhere else now."
"Come on, Hayley, before she decides to wear a sweatshirt and gardening shoes just to spite us. She was right about the eyeshadow," Stella added as she pulled Hayley out.
Maybe so, Roz decided. It was an interesting shade of brown, with a hint of gold to jazz it up. She knew how to use it to her advantage. God knew she had plenty of practice fixing herself up, and enough vanity to put effort into looking her best when looking her best was called for.
At the same time, there was a certain advantage to having other women,younger women in the household, she supposed, and she'd take their advice on the wardrobe.
Except for the pants.
She crossed to her dresser, opened the middle drawer where she kept her good sweaters. She did love those soft fabrics, she thought as she went through the folded garments. The cashmeres and brushed cottons, the silks.
She took out the dark green, unfolded it.
The chill hit with a shock, a punishing little slap, that had her taking a step back. Then freezing as the sweater was ripped out of her hands. She watched with disbelief as it hit the opposite wall, then fell to the floor.
Her knees wanted to buckle, but she kept her feet and walked slowly across the room to pick it up.
There were jagged tears across the front, as if angry nails had raked through the material. Her breath streamed out in visible vapors as she fought to stay calm.
"Well, that was nasty, and small of you. Petty and mean. I was fond of this sweater. Very fond. But it won't make a damn bit of difference."
Angry now, she whirled around, waiting, hoping to see something, someone, to battle. "I've