dementia.”
“If you really think that, you can tell her yourself. We’ll be at her house in about five minutes to pick her up.”
“She’s going with us?”
“I thought it best. Since she’s an academic, she can mingle with the professor’s associates.”
“Why do I have to go if Gaynelle is going?”
Bitty glanced over at me. “Are you whining again? I declare, I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately. You’re beginning to act like a spoiled child.”
She sounded like my mother giving me a good scold. To add insult to injury, her dog growled at me. I gave Chen Ling what I considered to be a withering glare, but it just rolled right off her. She lifted one paw and licked it daintily. Her toenails were a nice shade of purple. My gawd , I thought, she’s turning into a furry Bitty . . .
“Did you paint Chitling’s toenails?” I asked instead of responding to Bitty’s unkind and far-too-close-to-the-truth remarks.
“No, Regina did. At the doggy spa. Why? Isn’t the color right?”
“The color is perfect, Princess Glitter. Y’all match beautifully. Does your dress have a tulle bow, too?”
“Yes. And don’t give me any guff about it, either. Your own parents are just as bad if not worse than I am about putting clothes on a dog.”
Alas, Bitty spoke the truth. It’s a source of great concern at times, although I realize that just because I never dressed up my cat or dog that doesn’t mean I’m deficient in the area of pet ownership. Or so I’ve convinced myself.
“Why is it important to dress up if we’re just going to the professor’s house?” I asked. “It’s not like they live in a mansion. Do they?”
“Where they live isn’t important, Trinket. It’s who they are. You want to be well-dressed, but not over-dressed. Of course, you obviously don’t have to worry about that last point.”
“Velvet and tulle is not over-dressed for a wake? Good lord. What madness have I become involved in?”
“Since it’s still daytime, you’ll probably pass inspection by the skin of your teeth. Or your cheap slacks.”
“Bitty, you are such a snob sometimes.”
She became immediately indignant. “I am not! I just like to dress appropriately.”
“Then stop making snide remarks about my clothes. I’m always clean, and I strive to wear suitable styles at the suitable times. Slacks and a sweater set are just fine for going to someone’s house in the afternoon. I’ll bet you’ll be the only one there in velvet and tulle.”
“And you obviously don’t know the ladies of Oxford.”
“True. Now I’m not sure I want to.”
“It’s just that there’s a certain code for the alumni and professor’s wives, and it includes dressing up for affairs. I’m no more dressed up now than as if I was going to a garden club meeting.”
“I’m not sure what that says about Holly Springs garden club members.”
“Trinket, this may look dressy, but it’s a pantsuit, not an evening gown. I’m not even wearing stilettos.”
I peered down at her feet. By golly, she was right. Instead of ten inch high heels, she wore nice, low-heeled pumps that matched her pantsuit.
“Badgley Mischka?” I guessed, and she shook her head.
“Manolo Blahnik. Fall collection.”
“Cute. I like the suede flower on the toe. And the heels aren’t so high you look like you’re walking on stilts.”
“I’d say thank you, but I’m not sure that’s a compliment,” said Bitty as she nosed the big black Mercedes against the curb in front of Gaynelle’s neat little house.
She must have been watching for us, because the front door opened immediately, and Gaynelle stepped out onto the porch and turned back to lock up. She wore a sensible tweed jacket with a matching skirt, low-heeled shoes, and a silk blouse with a froth of ruffles at the throat. Gaynelle’s hair was a lovely chestnut color this week. It framed her face nicely and made her look years younger than her sixties.
“See,” I said,
“If you really think that, you can tell her yourself. We’ll be at her house in about five minutes to pick her up.”
“She’s going with us?”
“I thought it best. Since she’s an academic, she can mingle with the professor’s associates.”
“Why do I have to go if Gaynelle is going?”
Bitty glanced over at me. “Are you whining again? I declare, I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately. You’re beginning to act like a spoiled child.”
She sounded like my mother giving me a good scold. To add insult to injury, her dog growled at me. I gave Chen Ling what I considered to be a withering glare, but it just rolled right off her. She lifted one paw and licked it daintily. Her toenails were a nice shade of purple. My gawd , I thought, she’s turning into a furry Bitty . . .
“Did you paint Chitling’s toenails?” I asked instead of responding to Bitty’s unkind and far-too-close-to-the-truth remarks.
“No, Regina did. At the doggy spa. Why? Isn’t the color right?”
“The color is perfect, Princess Glitter. Y’all match beautifully. Does your dress have a tulle bow, too?”
“Yes. And don’t give me any guff about it, either. Your own parents are just as bad if not worse than I am about putting clothes on a dog.”
Alas, Bitty spoke the truth. It’s a source of great concern at times, although I realize that just because I never dressed up my cat or dog that doesn’t mean I’m deficient in the area of pet ownership. Or so I’ve convinced myself.
“Why is it important to dress up if we’re just going to the professor’s house?” I asked. “It’s not like they live in a mansion. Do they?”
“Where they live isn’t important, Trinket. It’s who they are. You want to be well-dressed, but not over-dressed. Of course, you obviously don’t have to worry about that last point.”
“Velvet and tulle is not over-dressed for a wake? Good lord. What madness have I become involved in?”
“Since it’s still daytime, you’ll probably pass inspection by the skin of your teeth. Or your cheap slacks.”
“Bitty, you are such a snob sometimes.”
She became immediately indignant. “I am not! I just like to dress appropriately.”
“Then stop making snide remarks about my clothes. I’m always clean, and I strive to wear suitable styles at the suitable times. Slacks and a sweater set are just fine for going to someone’s house in the afternoon. I’ll bet you’ll be the only one there in velvet and tulle.”
“And you obviously don’t know the ladies of Oxford.”
“True. Now I’m not sure I want to.”
“It’s just that there’s a certain code for the alumni and professor’s wives, and it includes dressing up for affairs. I’m no more dressed up now than as if I was going to a garden club meeting.”
“I’m not sure what that says about Holly Springs garden club members.”
“Trinket, this may look dressy, but it’s a pantsuit, not an evening gown. I’m not even wearing stilettos.”
I peered down at her feet. By golly, she was right. Instead of ten inch high heels, she wore nice, low-heeled pumps that matched her pantsuit.
“Badgley Mischka?” I guessed, and she shook her head.
“Manolo Blahnik. Fall collection.”
“Cute. I like the suede flower on the toe. And the heels aren’t so high you look like you’re walking on stilts.”
“I’d say thank you, but I’m not sure that’s a compliment,” said Bitty as she nosed the big black Mercedes against the curb in front of Gaynelle’s neat little house.
She must have been watching for us, because the front door opened immediately, and Gaynelle stepped out onto the porch and turned back to lock up. She wore a sensible tweed jacket with a matching skirt, low-heeled shoes, and a silk blouse with a froth of ruffles at the throat. Gaynelle’s hair was a lovely chestnut color this week. It framed her face nicely and made her look years younger than her sixties.
“See,” I said,
Similar Books
