by S.E. Akers
I heard Katie racing up the staircase just as I was getting out of the tub. I hope she remembered to bring everything, I thought, mentally noting her speedy arrival. My best friend kept a treasure trove of various cosmetics in a hot-pink case that sat on her vanity. She probably just grabbed it and split.
“Knock, knock,” Katie called out as she tapped on the bathroom door. “Are you decent?”
“Yes,” I answered as I slipped into my robe and opened the door. I immediately snatched her by the arm and dragged her down the hall to my room.
“What’s got you so psyched all of a sudden?” Katie questioned. “Don’t tell me that you’re actually excited about spending an evening with Mike?”
“Not exactly,” I replied slyly as I locked my bedroom door. Katie had a curious, but confused look about her. “You’d better sit,” I ordered as I pushed her down on my bed. “Actually, I’m excited about THIS . . .” I ran over to my closet and whipped out the garment bag.
“Lavish?” Katie questioned. “I thought your dress came from a consignment store downtown. When did you buy something from Lavish?”
“I didn’t,” I sang enthusiastically and then flung the card over to her. She read it silently.
“OMG! How sweet!” Katie cried out. “I guess it’s only fitting you have the best father in the world since you’re stuck with the world’s worst mother.”
“True,” I agreed with a proud nod.
“Open it up and let me see it!” Katie urged, sounding just as fired-up.
I absorbed Katie’s expression as I revealed the magnificent little black dress. It was like looking into a mirror.
“It’s gorgeous!” Katie squealed. “You’re going to look soooo hot!”
I slipped the dress over my head, still hanging from its hanger, and turned towards my full-length oval mirror. Katie walked over to where I stood and gave me a hug. She cocked her head and studied my reflection like a discriminating art critic.
“Boy, I sure have my work cut out for me,” she announced dryly, shaking her head.
I let out a fake gasp, pretending to be offended, and bumped her hip.
“Good thing I have a great canvas to work with,” Katie assured with a laugh and then got right down to business.
The next hour was spent drying, styling, and setting my hair. Straight or in a ponytail was the scope of my styles. Katie talked me into letting her use the hot rollers she’d brought along. Once they had cooled, she yanked them out and started teasing it vigorously. I half-joked that I didn’t want to look like I’d stuck my finger in a light socket. I just wanted to be “on record” with that one. Katie eventually had it all combed out and styled to perfection. She passed me a large hand mirror, and I was instantly left speechless. I never knew my straight dark-blonde locks could ever look this luxurious and thick.
“Do you like it?” Katie asked hesitantly.
“Oh, yeah . . . I’m just amazed,” I muttered. If the jewelry shop didn’t work out, she would have a career as a hair stylist waiting for her.
“Good. Then let’s set it. Cover your nose and mouth,” Katie requested as she sprayed my stunning new “do” with a fine mist of hairspray. Whatever was in that can remarkably added a shiny gleam to my tresses and brought out what was left of my fading summer highlights.
“Let me see your nails. Hands and feet,” Katie demanded, sounding like a drill sergeant. She looked down at my feet and shook her head in disapproval. Then I extended my hands for her inspection.
“Yuck! Those won’t do. What have you been doing? They look horrible!” Katie grumbled.
“I told you that I helped Ms. Sutherland today. I’ve been wrapping, packing, and carrying boxes for the past several hours. You know, there’s a lot more work involved with helping someone move than there is in unlocking a display case at a jewelry store,” I teased.
Katie let out a playfully arrogant, “Ha,” and went straight to filing. She glanced over at the golden topaz ring submerged in a glass jar on my bedside table. We’d mixed up the solution of sea-salt & water before she had started on my hair.
“I still can’t believe Beatrix Sutherland is moving. I figured she would be one of those old timers who hung around and died right alongside Welch,” Katie commented.
“She just told me that it was her time to move on. I think it’s good for her,” I replied casually. Katie finished buffing my fingernails and then started on my toes.
“Well, I’m not staying around here the rest of my life, regardless of what my parents have planned. If blind old Beatrix Sutherland can get out of here, then there’s hope for me, too. Mark my words . . . My body will NEVER see the hallowed West Virginia earth!” she vowed adamantly. Once Katie had finished buffing my feet, she picked up the jar and gave the ring a scrutinizing stare. “My parents have never used sea-salt to clean any of their jewelry. Just pre-made cleaners and occasionally a little Windex . . . Weird.”
If she thought that was weird, what would she think about the actual bestowing of the ring? Granted the sea-salt thing was different, and her mention of moonbeams was truly odd, but what she’d said when she slipped it on my finger — now that was straight-up crazy.
Katie seemed obsessed with Ms. Sutherland’s gift. “I still can’t believe she gave this to you. It’s probably worth around seven or eight hundred dollars.”
I smiled. “Oh, really?” I’d gotten the impression that Ms. Sutherland valued it for more than just a monetary amount. Clearly its worth was priceless — for sentimental reasons of course.
“Hmmm . . . I wonder if soaking my diamond in salt-water would work better than some of our cleaners?” Katie pondered aloud as she fiddled with her pendant. She swirled the ring around in the jar and placed it back on the nightstand. “I wonder where she bought it?” she questioned suspiciously.
“I think it’s a heirloom. At least, that’s the impression I got.”
Katie shook her head. “Mom and Dad have never really cared much for her. You know, all those rings she wears . . . Not one of them came from our store,” Katie added, sounding a bit miffed.
“I’m sure they were probably gifts or passed down to her,” I countered. “How many jewelry stores have a huge patronage of ‘blind’ customers? Seriously?”
Katie laughed. “That makes sense . . . when you put it like that.” She dropped my feet down onto the floor. “Okay, what color?” She removed the top tray of her makeup case to reveal oodles of various colorful nail polishes. I honestly couldn’t decide.
“May I make a suggestion,” Katie interjected. “How about this one?” She pulled out a clear, iridescent polish that cast a golden sheen. “It’s kind of neutral, but it’ll really show off your ring.”
She didn’t have to sell me on it. I nodded and watched as she gave the bottle a couple of good shakes. Katie threw a set of foam dividers in-between my toes, and within minutes, all twenty of my nails were painted to perfection. I turned my hands outward and gave the tips of my fingers a lengthy, warm puff of air.
“They look great, Katie,” I raved. “You’re a true miracle worker.”
“Those should be dry by the time I finish with your makeup. We don’t want any smudges on your nails — or on that dress,” she warned.
Katie positioned me with my back turned to the vanity. I thought I’d felt her stare lingering over my brows a little too long, and I was right. She quickly snatched a pair of needle-nose tweezers out of her make-up case.
“These are called tweezers,” my BFF enunciated like a kindergarten teacher. “You can use them for other things than just removing splinters.”
“Really?” I mocked with a set of overdramatic wide-eyes. Katie swiftly started plucking away before I could voice my concerns. I just sat there and quietly prayed for no nicks and that they would be even at the very least. After a vigorous wiping, she then pulled out several slender tubes of foundation and mixed up a concoction in h
er palm like a chef would an award-winning recipe. She dabbed a small amount on my cheek.
“Perfect,” Katie announced proudly. In no time, she had whisked the creamy base over my entire face. As soon as it had dried, she swirled a large brush around several times in a container and dusted my skin with a velvety powder. Katie leaned back to assess her work.
“Now for the eyes,” Katie announced and then pulled out a large compact that looked more like an artist’s palette. “I think we’ll go for smoldering,” my best friend cooed as she dabbed a small brush into various neutral hues — some light and shimmery, others dark and smoky. She blended the freshly applied shadow with her fingertips and outlined my eyes with a soft black liner. Then she twisted and twirled a mascara wand through my long lashes.
“Good thing I tweezed these brows,” Katie giggled as she swept them with a dark blonde pencil. I rolled my eyes and shook my head, only to be scolded with a whack on the shoulder and a, “Stop moving or you’ll mess me up!”
“Can I look now?” I begged anxiously.
“Not yet!” Katie barked. “I have to add some color to your cheeks and lips, silly.”
Whether she was officially finished or not, I knew my BFF was enjoying torturing me with the suspense. She chose a neutral lip liner and guided the soft pencil around my lips with the precision of a skilled surgeon. She swiftly filled them in and then grabbed a tube of lipstick. “Sweet Cherry Pie,” Katie announced as she brushed on the color with a Q-tip. After a quick blot, she topped them off with just a touch of sparkly gloss. “Mike won’t be able to resist these,” she cracked. I gave her a firm kick as I gently rubbed them together.
“Now, can I look?” I pleaded, my patience wearing thin.
Katie looked into my eyes, only to reply with a curt, “No.” She whisked another brush over a matte coral powder and gingerly swept it across both of my cheeks.
Katie stepped back and smiled, admiring her work in a way only an artist would. She started to swing me around towards the mirror, but she stopped abruptly.
“Wait,” Katie halted.
“What?”
“Put your dress on first. Okay? Just trust me,” Katie encouraged with a wink.
Katie handed me the stunning little black dress. I stepped into it carefully and then had her zip me up. Thankfully it felt tight enough around my bodice that a bra wasn’t needed (which was a good thing because I didn’t own a strapless one).
She tapped my shoulder. “Don’t forget your shoes, Cinderella.” Katie removed the black stilettos from their box and then set them down in front of me with a theatrical wave. I guided my feet into the towering heels cautiously. Once Katie had pulled the grosgrain ribbons into a taut bow, she hopped up and fished the golden topaz ring out of the jar. She placed it on her pinky and waved it in the air as she handed it to me. Slowly, I slid the dainty golden topaz on the ring finger of my left hand. The strange words Ms. Sutherland had spoken when she’d placed it there earlier started to echo in my head.
“What about my class ring?” I asked.
“No. Leave it,” Katie ordered. “Class rings are so casual and common. Just wear the topaz. It’ll look more elegant by itself. After all, you’re going to a dance, not a pep rally.”
That was blunt, but I suppose Katie knows what she’s talking about, I thought as I laid my fake diamond class ring down on my bedside table.
Seeing as how Katie had certain opinions about the dos and don’ts of jewelry, I couldn’t help but ask, “What about my necklace?”
Katie may have been quiet while she gazed at my little oval locket, but her discriminating verdict was clearly written all over her face. She didn’t approve.
“You can wear it if you want . . . but I wouldn’t,” Katie replied, trying not to sound too critical.
“Why not?” I asked, pretending to be offended. “Is it too casual . . . or common?”
“It’s okay,” Katie insisted uneasily, trying to phrase her opinion as delicately as she could. “I just think it takes away from the bodice of the dress.”
“Ooh . . . I see.” I decided to take my joke a bit further. “So, would a necklace still take away from the dress if it had a diamond on the end of it?” I posed mischievously and then gave her pendant a little flick. I tried to suppress my giggles, but a few inevitably escaped.
Katie pushed my hand away. “STOP THAT! You’re sooo bad,” she scolded, shaking her head and now looking the epitome of relieved.
“Honestly, Shi. I like a bare neck with this dress,” Katie added seriously. “Most people wear a lot of jewelry to enhance their appearance, but trust me . . . You don’t need to.”
Like in the cafeteria the other day, her comment made me uncomfortable, but I passed it off as my own quirky insecurity. After all, I wasn’t used to making such a fuss about how I looked, not the way most girls did. However tonight, I found myself truly enjoying it.
I smiled at Katie and respectfully announced, “I’m still wearing it.”
Katie smiled back and adjusted the locket on my chest. “I understand why you want to wear it,” she conceded. That was true. We’d been best friends long enough for her to know what my locket truly meant to me and why I would never take it off.
Impatiently, I stood there tapping my shoe as I stared back at her, waiting for her permission to turn around. Katie looked at me cluelessly for a second.
“Well? What are you waiting for?” she asked and then pointed towards the mirror. “Look!”
I grinned and rushed over to my full-length mirror. As soon as my eyes fell upon my reflection, I let out a huge gasp. Considering all the times Katie and I had played “makeovers” throughout the years, I never dreamed that any of them could have turned out like this. And I certainly never knew my almond-shaped eyes could look any bigger or bluer, or my lips any fuller. I even discovered I actually had cheekbones. My skin glowed, and my chic new hairstyle was the perfect frame for her masterpiece. My dress fit like a glove. Daddy had done an excellent job picking it out (though I guessed he had a little help from one of the saleswomen). My waist looked tinier, and as a bonus, the bodice made my boobs appear like they’d grown an additional cup size. The overall length of the dress was perfect too, and my new stilettos elongated my toned legs quite nicely. I extended my hands. My polished nails gleamed with tiny gold flecks when the light bounced off them. Katie was right. The color really did set off my little golden topaz ring, without fail. I stood there feeling flawless, absolutely flawless…for the first time in my life.
“You’re gonna get lipstick on your shoes,” Katie said as she pushed my jawbone up to close my gaping mouth.
I stood there silent and astounded.
“Shi, what’s wrong? Don’t you like it?” Katie asked hesitantly.
I gulped. “What’s not to like? I just can’t believe that . . . that’s me. I’m blown away, Katie. Truly blown away . . . ”
Katie hurried over to my bedroom door and stepped outside for a quick peek. She sauntered back into the room, grinning from ear to ear. She directed her words to my reflection in the full-length mirror. “If you can’t believe it, just imagine what the crowd gathering downstairs is going to think.”
We both looked at each other and smiled.
I turned to Katie and gave her a lingering hug. “Thanks, Katie-Kate.”
Katie hugged me back with equal intensity. “Anytime, Shi with a Y.”
Katie pulled her cell phone out of her pocket as she was leaving.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Going downstairs . . . to get ready for your big entrance,” Katie replied with a distinct twinkle in her eyes.
“Who are you calling?” I asked curiously.
“Nobody. I need it to take some pictures,” Katie answered casually.
“Don’t take pictures of me coming down the stairs,” I pleaded. “You know how embarrassed I get over stuff like that.”
&n
bsp; Katie laughed. “No, silly. I’m taking pictures of Charlotte and Chloe. I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces when they feast their eyes on you. I thought I’d frame one for you — for Christmas.” Katie was still giggling as she closed the door behind her.
I walked over to the window. A blazing fall sunset was seamlessly ushering in the breaking twilight. The mountains looked like a shadowy backdrop against the vibrant sea of pinks, blues, violets, and orange hues swirling in the sky. As giddy as what I felt right now, I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect sight. Since my window faced the front of the house, I also got a good bird’s-eye view of our gravel driveway. Daddy wasn’t kidding about having Samuel stand in his place. Sure enough, there was my surrogate father’s old white Jeep parked out front, right beside Mike’s shiny red Camaro.
Suddenly there was a loud pounding on my door.
“COME ON, SHILOH!” Chloe yelled. “Mike’s here! He’s ready to get this over with!” I could hear her huffing and puffing all the way down the hall as I walked towards the door.
“I’M COMING!” I shouted back.
I hesitated and gave the doorknob a tight squeeze while Ms. Sutherland’s words floated through my mind.
Let’s see if this will truly be a “momentous night”…
I pulled back on the door and stepped into the hallway. There was no one in sight. My stomach began to flutter, so I took one prolonged, confident and deep breath and then slowly glided down the hall.
I stood at the top of the steps for a moment, trying to listen in on the conversations occurring downstairs. Though the sounds were faint, they all seemed to be coming from the living room. As I made my descent, my pulse quickened at the sound of every creaking step. The further down I went, the clearer the voices became.
I overheard Mike telling Chloe, “We won’t be long at all, just an hour or so for appearances, for my mother.”
Perfect, I thought with a sigh of relief. That’s music to my ears.
When I’d reached the bottom, I swung myself around on the banister and landed quietly on the oriental rug. I tiptoed to the doorway of the living room. Charlotte was standing over by the curio cabinet, pouring herself another glass of wine. Chloe was sitting with Mike all hugged up on the sofa. I had to admit he looked nice in his tux. It wasn’t a traditional black, more of a deep charcoal. He was wearing his own boutonnière too — a single creamy white rose. Katie had planted her rear on a nearby ottoman. My BBF sat there watching them, rolling her eyes but camera-ready, nonetheless. I spied Samuel, the last member of my audience, lounging back in Daddy’s leather recliner. Even he was shaking his head at the young lovebirds’ nauseating touchy-feely display.
Samuel noticed me first as I inched into the room. He lifted himself out of the chair and smiled like only a surrogate father would — pearly-whites blazing and speechless. Katie was next. She grinned and turned her camera immediately in Charlotte’s direction.
“Don’t worry, Chloe. He’ll be back before you know it,” I called out confidently.
The remaining trio, who were unaware of my entry, quickly followed the sound of my voice. My eyes stayed focused on Chloe and Mike, but I kept Charlotte well within my peripherals.
Mike sprang off the sofa so fast that he almost knocked Chloe down as she attempted to follow his lead. She couldn’t see his face directly, but I could — every inch of his stunned but sly little grin. Chloe, bless her heart, looked as hot as a teakettle whistling on a stove.
Charlotte, who was in the middle of pouring herself another drink, was clueless to the fact that her glass had been overflowing for the past few seconds. She was totally stupefied. My mother became aware of her mishap, once the wine had drenched her shoes. And throughout my entire “what seemed like forever” fifteen-second entrance, the sound of little “clicks” coming from the camera on Katie’s cell phone roared through the room like thunder.
Samuel spoke up first. “Never in my life have I seen a vision so lovely, and I’ve been around a pretty long time. Your father’s going to be sorry he missed this.”
A timid smile illuminated my embarrassed, freshly-painted face.
Mike was next. “Shiloh, you look very —” Chloe interrupted his comment by issuing his arm a curt squeeze. He got her hint and ended up finishing his sentence with a, “Very okay.”
A frigid hush fell over the room, but Katie was more than willing to break that iceberg. “So, Mrs. Wallace? What do you think of my work?” Katie asked with a grin so smug and bitchy a judge would have thrown up a perfect “10”. Charlotte remained silent. “Doesn’t she look stunning?”
My mother knew all eyes were on her, but when you’re the reigning drama queen of the house, you tend to utilize moments like these to your advantage. Charlotte placed her wine glass down on the curio cabinet and prowled closer. Then she slowly circled me with a bitter swagger, like a lioness taunting its prey.
Charlotte stopped directly in front of my face. “My, my, Katie. Aren’t you a talented girl,” my mother announced while her icy blue eyes never broke their contact with mine. She took a step back to get a good look at my new dress. “Shiloh, I thought Chloe and I already picked you up a dress. Katie didn’t need to bring one for you to borrow. Go upstairs and change into it, so you can give hers back,” she demanded.
“That’s not my dress, Mrs. Wallace,” Katie assured her. “It was hanging in her closet when she got home. It was a surprise birthday present — from her dad.”
I was the only one who could see Charlotte’s expression. Her heated stare grew more intense by the second, causing her nostrils to flare.
“I thought your father was just running a simple errand to Bluefield this morning. Your gift must’ve slipped his mind,” my mother grumbled.
Apparently it had turned out to be more of a pissy surprise for her. And I knew Daddy and I would both pay for it, too. I’ll probably need to make up the sofa for him tonight, I deduced as I watched Charlotte staggering back to retrieve her wine glass.
Chloe still hadn’t spoken a single word to me. She just let out several, “Ughs” and grunts directed towards Charlotte, but that was the extent of it.
Samuel took my hands in his and twirled me around. “Lovely, just lovely.” Samuel shot Mike a stern look as he pointed to his own eyes with two of his fingers, and then back over to Mike with just one. My fake-date immediately started shifting around nervously. I bowed my head slightly to hide my grin. Daddy would have been proud, though I thought his hostile gesture was a bit over the top. Samuel was intimidating enough without it or his double-barrel shotgun (which thankfully he’d left at home).
Mike cleared his throat and tried to compose himself as best he could. “Shiloh, are you ready?” he asked and then looked at Chloe. “We really do need to get going. Um, My mom is probably wondering where I am,” he added, flashing his watch.
“Sure,” I replied nonchalantly.
Eyes blazing, Chloe looked over at me and then at Mike, repeatedly. It was like watching an irate spectator during a tennis match. The next thing I knew, my dramatic little sister had thrown her arms around Mike and locked him in a tight embrace. Then she planted a forceful, over-the-top kiss on his lips, which left the strapping quarterback wide-eyed and desperate for air. I’d honestly seen him less blindsided and winded after getting sacked on the field. I bit down on my bottom lip to hold back a laugh. SERIOUSLY! He was going to a dance with her sister, at her request — not off to war.
Katie sprang from her seat. “Wait! You need a clutch,” she insisted. “For your lipstick and stuff . . . Like mints.” Chloe’s head whipped around and glared at Katie on the spot. Even I thought that last crack was WAY out of line, but my BFF simply stood there with an innocent, doe-eyed look on her face.
“I don’t have one.” I turned to Chloe. “Do you have one that would match?”
“I sure don’t,” my little sister snapped. I figured my r
equest was a long shot, but at least it broke her silence.
Charlotte had just finished gulping down her drink. “Call your father. See if he has one for you,” she cracked.
Katie intervened. “Mrs. Wallace, don’t you have a cute, sparkly black-beaded clutch?” she inquired.
Charlotte’s eyes said “yes”, but the word that crossed her lips was “no”.
Katie waved her hand and continued, “Oh, sure you do. Remember last December?” Charlotte’s eyes began to glaze as she shook her head.
“The Beckley Country Club?” Katie posed confidently.
Charlotte was drunk, but she appeared just as deep in her thoughts.
“I was over there with my parents attending a Christmas party in one of their banquet rooms. I went into the restaurant and saw you and Carter Allen walking out . . . together. You had it then,” Katie claimed with a smile. “Is this ringin’ any bells, Mrs. Wallace?”
My mother’s eyes shot open in one big, busted blink. No one uttered a single word while we all stared at Charlotte, waiting for her reply. I felt another surge of anger trying its best to consume me as I added one more name to my growing mental list of man-whores. Charlotte surveyed the various expressions in the room. Samuel threw her a repugnant look as he crossed his arms, Chloe appeared clueless to Katie’s shrewd insinuation, and poor Mike just looked confused. Mine was simply one of disgust and anger. I’d already hinted my suspicions to Charlotte earlier. She knew exactly what I was thinking.
Charlotte looked like she was trying to construct her words carefully. “Oh, yes. I remember now. I’d just run into Mr. Allen and was chatting with him. You know, he’s a real talker and always so polite.” She scanned the room for a reaction. “You must be mistaken. I don’t remember carrying a purse like that. I barely even remember the incident.”
“You don’t remember the one you dropped when Mr. Allen was helping you put on your coat? When you two were leaving? He picked it up and handed it back to you. You know, you’re right. Mr. Allen is polite — a real gentleman,” Katie added with a deliberate nod as she crossed her arms, proving to be a very challenging adversary in this little cat & mouse game. I was actually surprised she didn’t yell out a victorious, “checkmate”. Just as Katie started to open her mouth again, Charlotte quickly cut her off.
“It’s in my closet. Just hurry up and get it!” Charlotte ordered peevishly.
Since my mother always kept her bedroom door locked, she was forced to pull the key out from her secret hiding place (the inside of her bra). Katie strutted over and snatched the tiny gold key right out of her hand.
“Thanks, Ms. Wallace,” Katie beamed. Not a second later, my best friend grabbed my arm and tugged me towards the back of the house. As we turned the corner, Charlotte rushed over to console Chloe, who still looked fit to be tied.
Katie inserted the key, turned the tarnished brass knob, and threw open the door. We stepped inside to find the room a total mess. The bed hadn’t been made, dirty clothes lay scattered everywhere, and the entire space was littered with empty wine glasses.
“I see why she keeps it locked,” Katie sneered.
“Charlotte’s not one for cleaning,” I confirmed. “She doesn’t like anyone in here, so let’s just get the purse and go.” I was ill at the thought of lingering around her sacred domain for too long.
Katie and I were heading for the closet door when she abruptly stopped in front of my mother’s long, mahogany dresser.
“Hold on a sec . . . We forgot perfume,” Katie remarked as she pointed down to the countless bottles lying on the fancy mirrored tray before our eyes.
“She would be so pissed if I used some of her perfume,” I stressed, as if she didn’t already realize how crazy her idea sounded.
Katie shot me a lax look. “Do you really care?”
I didn’t give it another thought. “Not really,” I giggled, giving her antsy little hands the go-ahead. Katie started rummaging through all the various aromatic fragrances, trying to decide which one would be the perfect scent.
Suddenly I felt the abrupt nip of a cool breeze and followed its chilly trail over to an open window. To my surprise, perched on the windowsill was my feathery little friend, the falcon. I bent down and carefully moved my finger towards it. The falcon didn’t seem as placid as it had earlier and flew off straightaway.
I smiled and joked to myself, Maybe it has a dance to get ready for too?
After a little more shifting, Katie let out a gasp and grabbed a teensy-weensy bottle hidden amongst the clutter of fragrances. “I can’t believe she’s got THIS!” she exclaimed.
Since I rarely wore perfume and mine was limited to whatever I could pick up at the local drug store, I didn’t have a clue why Katie was making such a fuss.
