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Bradys.
    Ella’s parents were still playing the let’s imagine game about people. The two women over there were planning a shoplifting spree, her mother thought, or they were discussing putting their father into an old people’s home. Ella’s father thought they had hacked into a computer and made a fortune and were wondering how to spend it.
    â€œWhat do you think, Ella?”
    She had been thinking about the body language of Don and Margery Richardson as they sat together easily. They were not stroking each other or handholding, but they didn’t have that stiffness that couples often have when there is a distance. Like her own parents had. Every night except tonight, when they seemed to be very relaxed.
    â€œGo on, Ella, what do you think they are?”
    She glanced briefly at the two retired women who obviously treated themselves out to a meal and a gossip twice a year.
    â€œLesbians planning which of them should be inseminated this time,” she said, forgetting she was talking to her parents rather than to Deirdre. To her surprise, they thought it was very funny, and when Don turned aroundslightly to look for her as she had known he would, there they were, all laughing again. Ella felt a touch of hysteria. She wanted to stand up and scream to the whole restaurant. That at best life was just one ludicrous, hypocritical façade. But you’d need to be a brave person to lose control at Miss Holly’s. Ella thought that he would say hallo, stop by the table and say something smooth and pleasant. Just be prepared for it and behave accordingly. Nothing glib or too smart.
    Her father removed his glasses and seemed pleased to be able to identify at least one of the fellow diners. “My goodness, that’s Ricky Rice, of Rice and Richardson Consultants,” Tim Brady said.
    â€œOh, do you know them, Dad?” she asked, her mouth hardly able to form the words.
    â€œNo, no, not at all, but we all know of them. Dear Lord, do they have clients?” he said, shaking his head with envy.
    â€œHow did they get such great business, do you think?” Her mother was peering over at the table.
    â€œKnow all the right people apparently.” Her father shrugged, his face defeated and sad.
    Ella was determined to raise the mood. She asked them about property prices on Tara Road. One house there had sold for a fortune recently.
    â€œDidn’t you do well to buy a house there, Dad?” she said.
    â€œWe wanted a place with a nice garden for you to grow up,” her mother said. “And wasn’t it marvelous? Still is, of course.”
    â€œBut you don’t live there anymore,” her father said.
    â€œNo, Dad, not full-time, but I’ll come back and see you as I will always do while you’re there, or wherever you are.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, wherever we are?” Her mother sounded very anxious.
    Please, please, may he not look around again now and see them all frowning and anxious. “I meant, Mam, that someday you’ll want to sell Tara Road and buy a smaller place, won’t you? Won’t you?” She looked from one to the other eagerly.
    â€œWe hadn’t ever thought . . .” her father began.
    â€œWhy should we leave our home?” her mother said.
    â€œYou know that guy Danny Lynch who lives in Number Twenty-five? He says this is the time to sell.”
    â€œWell, he left his wife and children—he’s no role model,” her mother said.
    â€œNo, but he is a real estate agent.”
    â€œNot any longer.” Her father spoke gravely. “Apparently he and his partner got into a lot of funny business,” her father said very disapprovingly.
    â€œ And anyone who would cheat on his wife like he did isn’t worth listening to on any subject,” Ella’s mother said.
    There was a movement two tables away. Ella saw him stand up. She knew he was coming over. Make them laugh, she told