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“Let’s see,” Gray said, toting up the charges. “That’ll be fourteen hundred and twenty-three dollars and ninety-five cents. Plus tax.”
Joan paused to let the figure sink in. Surely she’d heard the girl incorrectly. “Excuse me?”
“I know. Expensive, right? But you did say you wanted to treat yourself. And these products are top-of-the-line. Trust me. Come your husband’s birthday party next week—”
“My brother-in-law,” Joan corrected, sharper and louder than she’d intended.
“What?”
“It’s my brother-in-law’s birthday,” Joan said, lowering her voice to a more appropriate level. “My husband is dead.”
“Oh,” Gray said, her smile disappearing. “I’m so sorry.” She looked around the large, brightly lit space, as if searching for someone to come to her rescue. “So, are we doing this?” she asked when it became obvious that no one would.
That’ll teach me to be nice to old ladies,Joan could almost hear her thinking. “Sure,” she said. “Why not?” She handed Gray her credit card. What the hell? she thought. She could be dead by next week.
—
“When did I get cute?” she asked, throwing open the door to her condo and dropping her shopping bags at her feet.
“Mom?” Paige asked, walking down the hall toward her. “You were gone so long, I was starting to get worried. Are you okay?”
“The salesgirl said I was cute,” Joan told her daughter. “When did I get cute?”
“I think it was around four o’clock yesterday afternoon.” Paige glanced toward the bags on the floor. “I thought you were just going out for some moisturizer. What’d you do? Buy a lifetime supply?”
“I bought a few dresses.”
“A few?”
“All right. Five.”
“You bought five dresses?”
“I wanted something for your uncle’s party and I couldn’t make up my mind. You’ll help me decide, then I’ll take the others back.”
A look of concern flooded Paige’s face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, darling. I’m fine,” Joan assured her daughter. “Just feeling a little…I don’t know…old.”
“You aren’t old.”
“I’m not young. And don’t you dare tell me you’re as young as you feel, because right now I feel about a hundred.” She retrieved her shopping bags from the floor.
“Here. Let me help you with those.”
“Don’t you dare,” Joan warned, walking toward the living room and plopping down on the sofa, letting her purchases spread out at her feet.
Paige sank down beside her. “What’s wrong, Mom?”
“Do you know anyone named Gray?”
“I don’t think so. Why?”
“Apparently it’s a very popular name these days, that and Grayden and Hayden and Tayden. Tayden, for God’s sake. Who names a child Tayden?”
“I’m going to assume that’s a rhetorical question.”
“I guess every age has its more popular names,” Joan mused. “When you were born, every other little girl was named Chloe or Heather.”
