Dinner at Auntie’s was as exquisite as her Manhattan townhouse. Velma felt a bit awkward at first, of course.
But after a drink or two, with auntie’s smooth and gracious way, they were all laughing and carrying on. Velma and Scarlett cabbed back to Scarlett’s apartment, leaving Vesta with her auntie.
Velma got out her softest nightgown and got into the guest bed. Thinking over the weekend, she was disappointed that their exciting search for a city flat was cut short by Vesta and her aunt’s townhouse gift. Velma worried anew that retiring to the country had been a premature decision. She worried anew about spinsterhood, about her future.
Scarlett’s black cat, Sherman, came in wearing his gold-trimmed hat and curled up with Velma. Unlike the black dogs named Sherman that preceded him, this furry creature was intuitive and loving. With a penchant for dress-up.
Velma rested her hand on Sherman’s back; he purred, lulling Velma to sleep.