front unit that doubled as the complex's office. Every June Sarah was amazed that no one, except for her mother, remained from the previous summer. Where did they all go? Anywhere and everywhere, apparently. A few, those willing to grovel, returned to their permanently aggrieved wives and distrustful children. Others found apartments in the city. The luckiest moved in with new women. Still others moved to the Sundry Gardens, which was owned and operated by Harold's ex-wife Elaine, who'd gotten it in the divorce and now lived in the large front unit directly across the street from her ex-husband's. "Kiss my ass, Elaine," he often could be heard calling on warm evenings when the traffic had died down and he imagined his ex-wife's window might be open.

According toHad her mother used that word?

"It's okay, honey," Harold said, speaking to her for real this time. "I'm not such a bad fella once you get to know me."

For the rest of her life Sarah would be thankful she didn't say what was on the tip of her tongue, that she already had a boyfriend, that she was too young to marry, that in any case her father wouldn't stand for anyone except a graduate student in English from Columbia University. She'd actually opened her mouth to say these things when the facts reconfigured themselves in her head. No, her mother wasn't angry with her for growing up and becoming a woman, nor had she arranged for her to marry Harold Sundry as a punishment. How could such