"Where is Kate?" Wandering to the window, Laura looked out. "She should be here by now."
"Oh, she'd have waited to yank their chains before she left." Margo shrugged and reached for the champagne. "She'll be along. God knows this is better than poker and beer and a bunch of cigar smoke, but she's got to make her point. Ready for a glass, Mum?"
Ann paused in her perusal of the videotapes chosen for the marathon viewing. "Well… maybe just a little one."
They had champagne, popcorn, a platter of crudites, fresh fruit, three choices of dip, including white chocolate, and a stack of movies. The baby was sleeping in the nursery and her favorite women were here. Margo judged it the perfect girls' night out.
"I'm going to do your nails."
"I don't want the fussing."
Margo smiled at her mother. "It's fun, Mum. I've got the perfect shade for you. Red Hot Lover."
Ann snorted into her wine. "I won't wear any such thing. As if I'd be painting my fingernails anyway."
"Men go for it." To tease, Margo leaned closer. "And Bob the butcher's had his eye on you for years."
"He certainly has not." Her face flaming, Ann fumbled with the stack of tapes. "That's nonsense. We have a good customer relationship. Nothing more."
"He saves the leanest cuts for Miss Annie." Margo fluttered her lashes, then laughed. "You should give him a break one of these days. Oh, Laura, stop worrying about Kate. She'll be here."
"I'm not worrying, just watching." And thinking of Michael, she admitted. What was he doing? Why was it their paths hadn't crossed once since the night before? But she made herself come away from the win
dow and pour a glass of champagne. "What are we going to watch first? I vote for To Have and Have Not."
"You know how to whistle, don't you, Steve?' " Susan sighed, dipped a moist red strawberry into creamy white chocolate. "The world's champion come-on."
"World's best brush-off," Margo said, continuing the theme. "Bette Davis. 'I'd love to kiss you, but I just washed my hair.'"
"Best wrenching good-bye." Laura said, getting into the swing. "Bogart to Bergman. 'We'll always have Paris.'"
When Kate came in ten minutes later, they were in a heated debate over the ten most dangerous men in cinema history.
"Newman," Margo insisted. "It's the eyes. Cold or hot and incredibly blue. You watch The Long, Hot Summer, Hud, or—"
"Grant." Susan sat up to make her point. "Dangerous because it's unexpected. The charm undermines a woman's defenses, and he has her."
"Bogart," Laura disagreed. "In anything. Raw, dangerous, elemental, a hero despite his instincts."
"I can't believe you're discussing men." Disgusted, Kate plopped down. "I just left those four baboons. Is that white chocolate?'' She reared up again and used her finger to dip in. "And," she continued, licking it, "they were already smug, superior, and sarcastic. Mick's the worst. I can't believe he brought up that time I ran into him on the wharf and we…"
"We?" Laura came to attention. "We what?"
"Nothing." She should have filled her mouth, Kate decided, and began to do so. "It was nothing. He was home on leave and he looked sort of… interesting. We went for a drive, that's all."
"You went for a drive?" Laura repeated. "With Michael? That's all?"
"Well, yeah, mostly." Done it now, Kate thought, as every eye in the room focused on her. "Well, okay, so maybe I experimented a little, for a minute. Who's in charge of the VCR?"
Before she could pop up to take charge herself, Laura clamped a hand on her shoulder. "Define 'experimented.'"
"I let him kiss me… a couple of times. That's it. Just that. Do we have Bringing Up Baby? I could use a laugh."
"You and Michael necked in his car?"
"Not necked, exactly. I wouldn't call it necking.
Margo—" She appealed to her friend for help.