When I closed the book, Bebe’s blue eyes were bright with interest. “So what d’ya make of it?”
“You did a terrific job,” I said. “Not just on the book, but on identifying Livia. You probably saved a woman’s life. After you called that night and told me it was Livia who had quarrelled with Ariel, I went straight to the university. Solange Levy – you have her picture in your book – was already bleeding badly. She might have died if I hadn’t made it in time. She has you to thank for the fact that I did.”
“So she’s going to be okay?”
“Yes,” I said. “It’ll take her a while to recuperate, but she’s going to be fine.”
Bebe burrowed through the basket of dolls on her knee. Finally, she found what she was a looking for: a Barbie with platinum hair piled high, a tiara of bubble-gum-pink hearts, and a ballgown with a bodice comprised of two hearts that covered Barbie’s breasts like shields and a skirt of stiffly crocheted flowers. “Give Miss Hearts and Flowers to that Solange,” Bebe said. “It doesn’t matter how old a girl is, she always feels better if she gets a new doll.”
Ronnie was reshelving videos when I got back downstairs. She was in a checked shirt and bluejeans, and she was very tanned.
“Have you been away?” I asked.
“Nah,” she said. “Just a tanning salon. I’ll never be beauty-pageant material like her,” she said, pointing to the Barbie I was holding. “I figure the least I can do is look wholesome.”
“It works for you,” I said. “I like the way that gingham ribbon in your hair matches your shirt – very Doris Day.”
Ronnie swished her ponytail. “You know, Joanne, one of the things I like about you is that you never once asked me about the gender thing.”
I smiled at her. “That’s because I know it’s tough being a woman.”
Ronnie clapped her massive hands together and roared with laughter. “You’ve got that one right, friend,” she said. “But I’ll let you in on a little secret. It’s no bowl of cherries playing for the other team either.”
