They had embarked on their annual post-Christmas sales expedition. Her mother always waited a polite interval, at least until the first week in January; rushing to the shops before that was simply vulgar, she maintained. Lexie used to enjoy these trips, the buzz finding designer labels at a fraction of their pre-Christmas price. But after a while she started to wonder why a dress selling for eighty dollars could ever have been worth five hundred. These days she just wondered where everyone got the money. Weren’t they absolutely bled dry after Christmas, like her and Scott? And the level of frenzy seemed, well, a little vulgar as well. Not that her mother ever behaved in a frenzied manner. She always had a plan and a very specific list, which she rarely strayed from. It wasn’t a bargain, she had always told Lexie, if you didn’t need it in the first place. So it was the time of the year she replaced or topped up her linen, flatware and glassware, and began to stock up on gifts for the coming year.
