“Honey, I have a meeting at the Garden Club, and then I’m getting fitted for the gown I’m wearing to the charity ball. Michael will take you to your doctor’s appointment.” Mom said. As usual, she was the only person capable of getting Dad to act like a somewhat reasonable person. Though this morning Dad was putting up resistance.
“What the hell, Mary? I’m capable of driving myself. He needs to be closing the Simpson deal.” Dad glared at me. The breakfast room was painted bright yellow with red trim that Mom said was supposed to make everyone more cheerful in the morning. Feng shui? Whatever it was, its magical powers were not working today.
needs“Frank, if I let you drive yourself you won’t go. You’ll end up at some greasy spoon and make your ulcer worse.” She glanced at her watch impati
