It was the day I borrowed a pencil; the day we first spoke to one another. “I don’t see, Mollie,” he remarked, taking a cigar from the box on the table as his sister and daughter rose, “why you and Vee shouldn’t discuss this little affair —whatever it is—without bothering me. Or, better still, put all my clothes in the trunk. She felt very cool as he opened the door for her, as if she should have chic sunglasses and stiletto heels on, dark red lipstick. He did not spend more time with her. He yelled at the girls for neglected to hand Lucy a pair of shorts or a sweater while they stood around in shock.
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