I protested as she dragged me to the dressing room.  But, after slipping into the dress, I was shocked to admit that it actually looked lovely on me-the colors somehow gave my skin a glow I never had before.  I stood in the three-way mirror for a moment while Evie ooh’d and ahh’d.  Then, I glanced down at the price tag, “$875.00,” I choked.  “Not a chance my dad would approve that.”  Dream over.  I wasn’t even sure I could afford to try it on.

“It fits as though it were made for you,” Evie admired.

“But the bill doesn’t.”  Back to the rack it went.

My stomach was grumbling at me, so I suggested we grab some lunch.

Evie laughed.  “Don’t you mean dinner?  It’s nearly six.”

Shocked, I looked at my phone-sure enough, it read 1752 hours.  We thanked the white-haired lady at the register on our way out, and walked about three blocks back to the car.  I caught a few people, mainly guys eyeing Evie’s car as we put our bags in the trunk.

“Nice,” a tan, beefy guy commented as he passed.

I couldn’t tell if he was ogling the car or Evie.  I was embarrassed by the attention, but Evie didn’t even skip a beat.  As beautiful as she was, I imagined it was fairly common occurrence for her.

On the drive home I thanked Evie for a great afternoon, feeling a little guilty for being a disappointing shopping companion.  The temperature was cooling off and I could see that the clouds were starting to move in.

I took the bags inside while she parked her car in the garage just off to the north of the house.  Constance was walking in from the backyard with a large basket of freshly cut flowers.

“Welcome back.  Are you ready to eat?”  She asked.  “You must be starving,”  adding intuitively.

“You read my mind.  I’m famished.”

Constance had already started something on the stove.  I offered my assistance in the kitchen even though my culinary skills didn’t extend much past burning toast.  She graciously declined my offer.  Safe move on her part.

“The flowers are beautiful,” I complimented.

“Thank you, Kat.”   She pulled the flowers from the basket and began to sort them.

I sat at the counter watching her move meticulously through the kitchen.  She’d stir a pot, check food in the oven, mix something in a bowl and return to arranging flowers in beautiful vases.  Constance made the word multitasking look downright slothful.

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