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She lowered her head to study herself. 'It is awfully . . . I have a nice cable-knit shawl. I have a stole, for that matter. A mink stole. It's gorgeous, but John has a thing about me wearing it.' |
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'He's against ''conspicuous consumption." He thinks if I wear a mink somebody'll knock me on the head and run off with it. A lot of good it does, having nice things . . .' She clutched Denise by the upper arm and looked her in the eyes. 'I'll get my shawl. I should've thought of it, myself. It's just the thing. You're precious.' |
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'Well, thanks. You might want to wear a coat, too. It's kind of chilly out.' |
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'Oh, I will. I'll do that.' She laughed. 'I'm not a total flake, you know.' |
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She let go and hurried out of the kitchen. |
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Denise watched her swish away. |
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She couldn't blame John for having doubts about that dress. |
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But God, the gal looked awesome in it. Tom would climb the walls slobbering if he ever saw me in something like that. He'd never get the chance. Mom and Dad would take turns killing me. |
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She went into the living room and sat on the floor beside Kara. The girl pressed a button on the control device that she held on her lap. On the television screen, little Mario halted his run and Bowser the dragon froze in mid-air, a burst of fire about to leave its mouth. |
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'That's OK, go on,' Denise said. |
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