Later on that morning, Connie took her upstairs to the sewing room long before the first knock came to the door, but Ginger found out pretty quick that Connie would know exactly what all went on in the living room. She’d set up a baby monitor on the sewing table beside her, and when they heard the rap, she turned it on.

“Shhh . . .” She put a finger to her lips. “We’ll just sit back here for a few minutes and listen.”

“They can’t hear you on the other end. The monitor picks up the sound down there and you get it up here,” Ginger whispered. “One of my foster mothers had a setup like this.”

“I know, darlin’, but I don’t want to miss a word.” Connie grinned.

“Hello, Gladys,” Betsy said. “Come right in. Can I get you a glass of sweet tea or lemonade? Both were made fresh this mornin’.”

“I could sure use a glass of lemonade,” Gladys answered.

Ginger closed her eyes and put a face with the high, whiny voice. Gladys was the last woman who’d asked Betsy about buying mint jelly at church the day before. She had a long, thin nose set in the middle of high, thin cheeks that looked skeletal. Her bright-red lipstick had run into the wrinkles around her mouth. Her icy-cold eyes had started at Ginger’s feet and slowly made their way up to the little fascinator hat.

The sounds of someone bustling around came through the little white box on the sewing table, and then Betsy told Gladys to have a seat. “You mentioned that you wanted mint jelly. I’ve only got six jars left. The mint is beginning to spring up again out back of the house, but it’ll be a while before it’s ready to harvest for jelly.”

“I’ll take two of them,” Gladys said. “This is sure some good lemonade. You still squeezin’ your own? I’ve gone to that powder stuff that you just put in water.”

“I like it made from fresh lemons best,” Betsy told her. “I’ll bring out that jelly so you don’t forget to take it with you when you go.”

Ginger and Connie heard more rustling, and then Gladys whispered, “I’m glad you answered on the first ring. I’m here at the house now. There’s no sign of that girl they brought to church. Maybe it’s one of their strays and she’s already gone. Here she comes back. I’m hanging up now.”

“I wonder who she was calling,” Ginger said.

“Probably Edith Wilson,” Connie said. “They’ve been inseparable since we were all in first grade.”

“So you’ve known them that long? Were you friends?” Ginger asked.

“Until maybe third grade, when they found out what the Banty House used to be. Mama shut it down after I was born, so it hadn’t been in operation for almost ten years by then. Mama’s girls used to come back to see her real often—real refined ladies they were,” Connie said.

“Two jars,” Betsy said. “That’ll be ten dollars. More lemonade?”

“No. I was just wonderin’, though, who that pregnant girl was that came to church with y’all yesterday,” Gladys said.

“Just a very good friend of ours,” Betsy said.

“Someone I might know? One of your mama’s old”—she cleared her throat—“acquaintances?”

“Nope. Don’t reckon you’ve ever met any of her folks,” Betsy answered.

Someone else rapped on the door, and Betsy excused herself for a minute. “Be right back now. I’m sure it’s Flora Thompson. Only her truck rattles like that,” Betsy said.

Kate’s voice came through the monitor. “Well, hello, Gladys. I didn’t know you were here. I just got a phone call from Flora, and she said she was on the way. I understand that she’d got a terrible sore throat and needs a little of my special apple pie to help her out.”

“Damn drunk,” Gladys muttered, but it came through the monitor loud and clear. “I must be going. Would it be all right if I leave by the kitchen door? I parked my car right up next to the garage doors.”

“Why, sure, darlin’,” Kate said.

“Who’s Flora?” Ginger asked.

“She’s one of Kate’s best customers. She pays for her medicine with eggs and butter. She churns the best in Medina County, and her chickens are free range, so that helps with cholesterol problems. When you smoke as much as I do, you got to watch the other issues that could pop up. Don’t pay no attention to Gladys,” Connie said. “She’s pretty close to Edith for bein’ snobby and self-righteous.”

Ginger gave a brief nod and leaned in closer to the monitor.

“I thought I saw that self-righteous Gladys in here. I expect she was trying to weasel something out of Betsy about that pregnant girl that y’all brought home from Hondo last week, wasn’t she?” Flora’s voice was as distinctive as Gladys’s, but in a very different way—deep enough to be a guy’s and as gravelly as if she smoked three packs of cigarettes a day.

“I feel kind of like we shouldn’t be eavesdropping,” Ginger said.

“Shhh . . . ,” Connie said. “It’s not listenin’ in if Kate and Betsy know, and they do. I like Flora. She ain’t never put us down for what our mama did. She even got to come to our house to spend the night when we were little girls.”

“Yep, she was,” Betsy said. “Want some lemonade or tea?”

“No, honey, but I wouldn’t say no to half a glass of that new peach shine that Kate brews up,” Flora said. “I’m so dry, I’m spittin’ dust.”

“I tried some strawberry this past week. Want to sample a little of it?” Kate asked. “And while I’m in the cellar, how much apple pie do you want?”

“Three pints,” Flora answered. “And strawberry will be just fine. You offer Gladys any?” She burst out laughing.

“Nope. I don’t waste good shine,” Kate answered.

That brought out another bout of laughter. “She wouldn’t have taken it anyway. She thinks if she takes one little sip, the devil will come up out of the ground and drag her kickin’ and screamin’ to hell. I’ve brought six dozen eggs and two pounds of butter. That sound fair?”

“More than,” Kate said. “I’ll bring up a half pint of my peach to go with the apple pie. I know that you like it pretty good, too.”

“Thank you, darlin’. You always do right by your friends,” Flora said.

“Do my best,” Kate said, and then there was a lull.

“How’s your mama doin’?” Betsy asked.

“Poorly,” Flora said. “She’s as stubborn as a constipated mule. Won’t take medicine. Says the doctor is tryin’ to poison her. Thank God she’ll take a shot of shine every few hours. It helps with the pain and knocks her square on her ass for a little while so I can get some work done around the farm.”

Ginger looked over at Connie and raised an eyebrow.

“Her mama is dyin’ with the cancer,” Connie said. “She’s never been one much for doctorin’. She was a sweet old girl until she got that tumor in her brain. Now she’s turned right the opposite way.”

“Poor thing,” Ginger said.

“Yep, and poor Flora,” Connie said. “I hear another car arrivin’. I bet that’s Edith. She’s the one who’s going to try to talk Betsy into sayin’ we’ll put floozies out on the porch. Here.” Connie handed her the skirt of a long white dress and a seam ripper. “You ever use one of those things?”

“Yes, ma’am. I took home economics in a middle school down south of Harlan while I was there. I made an apron,” Ginger answered.

“Well, you take the seams out down the sides. I think I can splice in about four inches from one of the other dresses that’s fallin’ apart, and it’ll cover my chubby little body,” Connie told her.

“Other dresses?” Ginger started the painstaking job of gently removing each stitch.

“We have the last six dresses that the working girls wore in the Banty House,” Connie said. “On Rooster Romp day, we wear them and drink sweet tea on the porch. I hope the roses are in bloom so folks that stop to take a picture of our old whorehouse get a little color in their photos.”

“These don’t look like hooker clothes,” Ginger said. “I was expecting something raunchy, like black lace teddies or maybe red silk with garter belts holding up fishnet hose.”

“This wasn’t a normal brothel.” Connie set to work on taking the stitches out of the bodice of the white dress. “That’s why we won’t let Edith talk us into disgracing the name of the Banty House.”

“Well, hello, Kate.” A different voice came through the speaker. This one was soft as butter and sweet as honey.

“Edith,” Kate said. “Come right on in. Flora and Betsy are in the living room.”

“Oh dear, I didn’t realize that you had company. I can come back another time. Maybe later this week,” Edith said.

Ginger heard the door close and then footsteps.

“I guess Edith didn’t want to sit in the same room with me, did she?” Flora laughed.

“Guess not,” Kate said.