Her parents lived one time zone away, making it nine o'clock there, and even then her mother sounded groggy.

"If I've woken you, I am not sorry," Sunny began. "It isn't my fault if you and Dad watch old movies all night. And it isn't my fault that my daughter is pregnant. But that's what the paper suggests."

"What paper?"

"The local one-the Gazette-what other one would I care about? This paper reaches every person in town for free, so it's not like I can even unsubscribe. It isn't bad enough that my own daughter betrayed me or that my best friend Susan aired my dirty laundry in school all week, but now it's in print. I'll definitely sue the editor in chief for printing this."

"The Zaganack Gazette?" Delilah sounded distracted.

"You think this is funny, Mother? I do not. I had a good reputation before this, but now it's shot." She read aloud. "'These girls claim they acted alone. But did they? Their mothers failed to teach. Failed to supervise. Failed to-'"

"'Set an example,'" Delilah spoke with her. "Excuse me, Sunshine, but I do not see mention of mothers in this diatribe."

"Because I've only read you a tiny part."

"No, no. I have the whole thing on my screen right now, and I only see the word mother once."

"People is a euphemism for mothers. He's directing this at my friends and me."

"Mostly at Susan, but he doesn't mention her name either."

"Like anyone in town wouldn't guess? You don't seem to understand. I have trouble looking at my daughter, my husband has trouble looking at me, and wherever I go people stare. This is everything I've fought not to go through. Now we'll have to move."

"Rubbish," said Delilah.

"I'm not like you, Mother. You thrive on controversy. I find it Humiliating with a capital H."

"That's because you're Timid with a capital T. You have a fine daughter, who will do a fine job raising her child-and, for the record, your father and I weren't up last night watching old movies. He was up late tracking computer hackers, which is what he does for the government, which doesn't think we're anywhere near as embarrassing as you do."

Sunny knew that the government would think twice if her parents showed up for the annual White House Easter egg hunt dressed as rabbits. But she hadn't called to argue.

"Fine," she said. "But please, next time you talk with Jessica, do not encourage her. She did this for you."

"Wrong, Sunshine. She did it for you. When are you going to open your Eyes with a capital E?"

Kate was at the barn when one of her assistants brought the Gazette in from the parking lot. She wouldn't normally read it here, but she knew it might have an article on the girls, and besides, there was a lull at work. Though she had started dyeing Vernal Tide, March Madness, and Spring Eclipse in each of five yarn weights-bulky, worsted, sport, fingering, and lace-Susan hadn't worked out the last two formulas. Nor had they gotten feedback from the others on the three they did have.

Saturdays had not been as productive as they needed to be. She and Susan were distracted and seemed to knit more than dye. Pam seemed totally disinterested and was clearly having second thoughts about giving PC Wool a push in the catalogue. And if Sunny was planning a special promotion at PC Home Goods, she hadn't mentioned it in days.

All of it was upsetting, but nowhere near as much as the public attention her daughter had garnered that week. Mary Kate claimed she was fine, but when Kate's friends asked about Jacob, she didn't know what to say. Her heart broke when she realized that the two of them might have permanently split. Oh, Jacob would take responsibility for the baby. He would support it once he could. He would negotiate an agreeable arrangement for visitation, even custody. But this wasn't an ideal way to bring a child into the world.

Slipping the Gazette from its plastic sleeve, she opened it on the worktable and skimmed through. She was starting to think they had dodged the bullet when she saw the editorial.

Her first thought was to call Susan. But Susan's phone would be ringing off the hook.

Her next thought was to call Sunny. But Sunny would be bouncing off the wall.

Her third thought was to call Will, but he was growing frustrated with Kate's anger, and what she needed was a target.

So she called Pam. "Have you seen the Gazette?"

"Just now. Tanner called."

"Was there no way he could stop this? His cousin is the publisher, and the publisher is George Abbott's boss."

"Tanner isn't involved in running the paper," Pam said coolly. "He didn't know this was coming. Besides, there's a problem with the website, so he's been preoccupied."

"A problem that affects PC Wool?" Kate asked. This was her livelihood.

"No."

That was a relief. With production falling behind schedule, the last thing they needed was a problem with sales. "So why did George Abbott write this? Do you think he represents the mainstream of public opinion?"

"How would I know, Kate? All I know is he's a good writer, and he puts the paper out with a limited staff. Ad revenues are down. He's having to do more himself than he used to."

"That explains it. He's overworked, so his judgment is poor. You do realize this is a total attack on Susan. There she is trying to salvage her credibility, and he undermines her with something like this? It goes two ways, y'know. She's a target because she's a public person, but because she's a public person-and, yes, working in a 'crucial position'-doesn't she deserve a little respect?"

"It's a thorny issue."

"Pam. You're supposed to be her friend. Do you not respect what she's done with her life?"

"Of course I do."

"Then do something," Kate urged. "She needs people like you speaking up for her. You're on the school board, and your name carries weight. Write a letter to the editor."

"That wouldn't help," Pam said. "George is a family friend. He'd take it personally."

"Whoa. You're afraid of hurting George's feelings? Which friendship means more to you-his or Susan's?"

"Susan's, but it isn't as simple as that."

Kate felt a flash of annoyance. "How's it complicated? Not only is Susan a loyal friend, but she's your business partner-speaking of which, Pam, we really have to meet Saturday. We need feedback from you and Sunny before we can finalize these colorways. I'm starting to think you don't care."

"I care."

"Do you care about Susan? This editorial hits her hard. How about showing her a little loyalty."

"Hey," Pam shot back. "You guys all knew about this. No one told me until the cat was out of the bag. Where's the loyalty there?"

"Come on, Pam. Do you know what an awful time we've had?"

"I didn't tell your girls to get pregnant," Pam said with just enough arrogance to goad Kate on, but hadn't she been looking to pick a fight?

"Fine. But if you want to place blame, what about Abby? She was with our girls all summer. She must have heard them planning this. That makes her an accomplice."

"Abby is not pregnant," Pam said.

"Not yet."

"I know my daughter."

"I thought I knew mine, too. Think about it, Pam. It could be that the only reason you're not in George Abbott's sights right now is a matter of luck."

Pam couldn't shake what Kate had said, especially since Susan had said something similar a few weeks before. Maybe you can talk with your daughter about not getting pregnant. Pam told herself that they were just throwaway last lines. But it wasn't like Susan or Kate to use throwaway last lines. They weren't into empty small talk, the way so many Perry friends were. They were substantive.

Was this a warning, then? She wondered if they knew something she didn't.

Deciding she needed to see Abby, she left her a message saying she would pick her up after school, and she arrived early for a good spot at the curb. Closely watching the front door, she spotted her daughter the instant she came out-and, momentarily distracted, felt a helpless pride realizing that this striking young woman was hers. It wasn't only the blond hair and creamy skin. It wasn't even her father's height, though that certainly set her apart. More, it was the way she carried herself. She walked with the confidence of a Perry.

Pam had admired that carriage from the very first time she had met Tanner's family. She could carry it off herself when she tried. Her daughter didn't have to try. She was born with it.

Abby was with friends as she came down the stone steps, but not Lily, Mary Kate, or Jess. This was what Pam had wanted to see.

The girl spotted the Range Rover and crossed the grass. She didn't run, just walked with that calm Perry gait. Some called it arrogant. Pam called it classy.

"What's up?" Abby asked as she slid into the car.

"Cashmere. We're thinking of introducing it to the PC Wool line, but I need your opinion. You're my target audience."

"No way. Kids my age can't afford cashmere yarn."

"How do you know the cost?" Pam asked as she pulled away from the curb.

"Because I look online. Because you love cashmere and buy me cashmere, so now I love cashmere. But I do know it costs more."

"Would you knit it if PC Wool sold it?"

"In a heartbeat."

"Well, there you go," Pam said, feeling vindicated. "I found a woman up the coast who spins cashmere. I want to see the quality of her work, and I want your opinion."

Abby seemed content with that. "We're on a mission."

"We are. You didn't have anything else on this afternoon, did you?"