“The groundhog lied,” declared Brenna, plunking down into a chair. “There is absotively no evidence of spring out there.”
Sylvie smiled at her new roommate and speared a chip into the bowl of queso. “You do realize that Punxsutawney Phil has absolutely no bearing on whether we’re getting spring early or having more winter, right?”
“Spare me the lecture and gimme some of that cheese dip. God, it’s freezing.”
Sylvie shoved the basket of chips closer. “There’s something wrong when the southerner isn’t the one bitching about the cold.”
“I am from Tucson,” Brenna protested.
“Fair enough. At least we do get a little snow in Huntsville.”
“I rest my case.” She paused when the waiter arrived to take her drink order and asked for a margarita. “How were things at the gallery today?”
“Go
