They flopped onto an eighteenth-century sofa with bowed, hand-carved legs and blue silk cushions. “Go on, have at it,” Kelly said. “Let it all out. I know you’re dying to.” “I can’t believe this,” Teresa stormed at Kelly. “This has got to be the worst fiasco in…in the history of fiascos!” “There’s a history of fiascos?” Kelly wondered. “Is it in encyclopedia form? Is our father in there?” “Don’t you dare make light of this,” Teresa hissed. “I told you it was a bad idea from the very beginning, and now look where we are.” She glanced around wildly, gesturing with her hand at the enormous room. “Here.” Kelly glanced around. True, things hadn’t gone as planned, but it was hardly a dungeon. The antique furniture was all re-upholstered and immaculately polished. There were crystal vases of fresh flowers everywhere.
