The Australian by Diana Palmer

muscles strained at the garments as if they were purchased when he was a little lighter, less mature. He looked faintly rumpled, and her eyes went over his worn garments with faint hauteur.
    His cutting eyes flashed angrily as he received that insult, and they lingered on her own attire. If she’d expected to bring him to his knees, she was immediately disappointed. He eyed her indifferently, and then turned away. “I’m going on over to the Gaineses’,” he told his brother. “See you there; but I’m not staying long. Parties aren’t my style these days,” he added with a cold smile in Priss’s direction. “By the way, honey,” he drawled, “we’re simple folk around here. Designer gowns aren’t the routine. All they accomplish is to make the other women who can’t afford them feel uncomfortable.”
    Her eyes narrowed. “Yes, I can see the current style doesn’t owe anything to fashion,” she added with another meaningful glance at his own clothing. “You’ll have to forgive me. I grew used to genteel company in Hawaii.”
    “Like that pommy you brought back?” John taunted with cold eyes and a cutting smile.
    “At least,” she replied carelessly, “he has excellent breeding and rather admirable taste in suits!”
    John’s face stiffened. He nodded toward Randy and walked out the door without a backward glance.
    Randy looked as if he would have loved to say something, but he only shrugged uncomfortably.
    “Latrice!” he called up the staircase. “Could you come down here, please?”
    Seconds later an angry sigh came from upstairs, and Latrice descended. She was redheaded and petite, with a kewpie-doll prettiness.
    “There you are,” Priss said, forcing herself to forget John and his bad temper and get her mind on the present. She smiled. “It’s good to see you again, Latrice. I’m afraid my visit isn’t purely social, though. I want to have a word with you about the twins.”
    Latrice laughed huskily. “Oh, my. This sounds serious.”
    “Not yet. But we’re headed that way,” Priss said and recounted the incidents of the past two days.
    Latrice gasped. “All that, in just two days?”
    “I told you they’re getting out of hand,” Randy told his wife sharply.
    She glared at him and seemed to be on the verge of making a sharp retort when Priss interrupted.
    “Uh, the twins?” she prompted. They both looked at her. “I barely saved you from a day in court with the Morrison boy’s mother,” she added meaningfully.
    Latrice sighed. “Well, we’ll just take their telly away from them for a week,” she said. “That should do it.”
    “Have you looked in their room?” Randy protested. “They’ve got a million damned toys. Being locked in there without the telly isn’t a punishment; it’s a reward!”
    “Then, we’ll restrict their toys as well.”
    Priss felt uncomfortable. It really wasn’t the time to go into child psychology and the attention-getting mechanism that was overly active in the twins.
    “What good will that do? They need a good beating,” Randy said.
    “You will not hit my sons!” Latrice fired right back.
    Priss cleared her throat and Latrice looked at her with a guilty smile. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “We’ll have a talk with them, and we’ll do...something,” she added. She smiled politely. “Thank you for bringing it to our attention.”
    “I didn’t like to bother you tonight,” Priss replied, “but it was reaching the critical stage.”
    “That’s all right, Priss,” Randy said. “If the boys don’t improve, we’ll want to know about it.”
    “Yes, I’ll see that you do. Well, I’d better run. I left Mom and Dad out in the car. Are you coming to the party?”
    “Of course.” Randy grinned, hugging a reluctant Latrice to his side. “We don’t get invited out that often these days, do we, darling?”
    She glowered at him. “No. Not that often.”
    Priss mumbled a quick good night and beat a path to the door.

Chapter