A Four-Dollar Worn Shawl to Wear to Belle Meade
She picked her coffee back up and took a long swallow.
“Well.
That’s a first.
I’ve known that boy since he was in short pants, and he’s never been specific about a single thing.”
The receptionist answered a ringing phone and turned her shoulder toward us.
I looked past her at the elevators.
The doors were standing open.
Margaret followed my gaze and gave a tiny nod.