“There we go!” clucked the lady blithely at last. “That’s better, isn’t it, dearie?” Her eyes twinkled.
“Y-yes,” murmured Rachel.
“Well, then, let’s have lunch,” the other suggested matter-of-factly. She shut the car door, beeped the alarm, and then pulled playfully at the girl’s slinky waist. “Come on! Maybe that flat little belly of yours isn’t growling,” she chuckled, “but ol’ Auntie Lisa’s big one is—it’s time to eat!”
Rachel let herself be led into the expensive restaurant, a place of brass handrails and the subdued lighting of heavy crystal chandeliers, richly paneled walls and intricately carpeted floors, darkly gleaming tables with brilliant flatware and burnished utensils, huge potted plants providing decoration, privacy, and noise-dampening all at once. The maitre d’ greeted
