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“Five?”
“Okay. And if you’re going to get crotchless panties, you might as well try some of our peek-a-boo cup nighties.”
“I guess you could add whatever you think people are wearing now. I’m kind of out of the sexiness loop.”
“Ooh! You’re fun to shop for,” said Brit. “You’re going to make someone very, very happy with all these goodies.”
“Fabulous,” said Abby, hoping things with her and Charlie didn’t fall through any time soon.
She forgot all about her purchases once she got home and was hit by the mundane reality of her day-to-day life. Ron and Suzanne Bertram came over while Randall grilled steaks. The two couples played cards out on the patio and, as usual, had too much to drink. By the time the Bertrams left, Abby was so drunk and tired that she could barely get herself to bed. A few moments after she passed out, Randall came plowing into the bedroom and shook her awake.
“Why did you spend $1,554 at a place called Lady Lizabeth Lingerie today?”
“Oh, shoot,” Abby said, still not fully coherent. “That was supposed to be a surprise.”
“There aren’t surprises. You know I look at our accounts every day.”
“I thought I’d do something fun and different,” Abby said. Now she was fully awake. Randall had turned on the light when he’d stormed in, and they could see each other perfectly. There was none of that dim, lie-hiding shadowiness that would have come in so handy right about now.
“Why would you want to do that?”
“Just to be nice.”
“Just to be nice?”
“Yeah. Is that okay?”
“If you mean it.”
“Of course I do.”
He stood back up and paced around the room. Abby considered settling back under the covers, but sensed that it was better if she stayed sitting up a little longer.
“You just felt like it. For no reason,” he said.
“One of my co-workers had a Lady Lisabeth catalog sitting by her desk. You know, Danielle, the girl whose lunch I cover every day? And I thought I’d take a look at it, and then I saw all kinds of fun stuff and decided to buy some of it. I didn’t think you’d be mad.”
“You haven’t done anything like this in years. No. Strike that. You’ve never done anything like this. Not to this extent.”
“If you’re not comfortable with this, I’ll send it all back once it gets here.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said.
“Well, I didn’t mean for it to upset you,” she said. He looked less angry now. Maybe a little confused and suspicious, still, but his fury seemed to be softening. She sank back down into the bed.
He started to leave the room, turned off the light, but then hesitated in the doorway. She looked at his backlit silhouette as he stood there staring at her.
“What is it?” she asked him.
“You’re not twenty anymore.”
“Yeah?”
“You know those girls in catalogs like that? They’re just that. They’re girls. They’re nineteen, twenty years old. Maybe twenty-five. Maybe. Maybe a few of them are twenty-five. I doubt it. But they’re not in their late twenties.”
“Okay,” Abby said.
“You’re in your late twenties. You’re probably ten years older than those girls.”
