The plump woman who stood beside me was of medium height. Her strawberry-blond hair shone. In the mirror I could see she had a kindly face. Actually, two kindly faces. I groaned and closed my eyes.
An impatient, distressed voice spoke from the doorway. “Lucky you’re coming around, Goldy.” My heart sank: Patricia. This was a bad dream. “We’re starting on that vegetable basket you put out. Are you all right now? My husband can’t put the fish on the grill until you’re ready.”
“Ready for what?” I muttered as the kindly red-haired lady smeared a gold-colored jelly on my forehead. The jelly looked like Vaseline and smelled like something you’d get in a Navajo gift shop. “What are you doing?” I asked uneasily, even as the comforting warmth of the salve magically removed the throbbing in my head
