Slamming the door behind her, slapping her bag angrily onto a chair, glowering fiercely at the hall mirror as she passed it; none of that helped. Anger had been overtaken by anxiety. She kicked off her shoes, plunked herself deep into the pillows of the pale silk sofa and pulled her feet up under her. Silk and Satin jumped up next to her, and she gathered them close for comfort. “What will I do?” she whispered into Silk’s ear. “If I lose this place, I’ll have to start all over again. I’ll have to find another apartment, go back to a restaurant job, postpone everything while I save my money again. Oh, Silk, everything seemed so perfect.” The telephone’s ring interrupted her. As usual, Marge didn’t wait for any greeting. “Can we talk? Are you alone?” “Of course I’m alone, Marge. What did you expect?” “Oh, something romantic, I guess. How did your dinner with your uptight friend turn out?” “Just awful, Marge. Worse than awful. And Mack Brewster is no friend of mine.
