Chapter Seven
I again lied to Mother about my destination, and even without the usual shower and shave, I arrived at Penny’s house after eight. Traffic had been bumper to bumper. A soft glow of light filtered through the lace curtains in the dining room and framed in the kitchen door window. Penny paced as I rapped on the glass. Unlike other visits, when the door opened, soft music played, and the aroma of fresh apple pie accompanied by Jungle Spice, Penny’s favorite perfume coated my nose. “Sorry I’m late,” I said as she flew into my arms, kissed me, not at all without passion, and pulled me into the house. Have I mentioned the decor was traditional, whatever this means? Penny’s mother’s style had appointed the house for fifty years.
“I thought you weren’t coming,” she sighed, “and I’ve
