12
A brisk wind had sprung up and rain clouds were gathering in the distance telling me it was not a day to walk to work. Carrie was on the porch smoking her morning cigarette when the taxi dropped me off. She looked lovely in a blousy, black dress with a knee-length, full skirt set off by a wide, shiny red belt, and red pumps.
“Nicely packaged today. Court or hot date?” I said, hopping up the stairs to get out of the rain and folding my umbrella.
“Can’t it be both?”
“Of course.”
A curt smile played on her lips. “Court is certain. You could make it a true daily double.”
Skying his jacket over his head to deflect the pouring rain, Bobby bounced up the stairs, slid down the jacket. Glancing at our smirking faces, he asked, “Did I interrupt anything?”
Carrie batted her eyelashes. “Gran
