![]() ![]() I don’t know what Melinda’s policy was, but mine was to keep silent so I wouldn’t draw any more attention. ![]() Melinda and I sat through the book discussion in mortified silence, but we tried to look interested and as though we were thinking deep thoughts. I was sure Teresa’s hair was scared not to mind. Her hair always did what it was told, in sharp contrast to mine. ![]() ![]() Teresa, aggressively well groomed, had that chin-length haircut that swings forward when you bend your head, as she did now to check the agenda. “Then we’ll continue the meeting with our book discussion,” Teresa said, her voice clipped and businesslike. The president of Uppity Women, Teresa Stanton, was giving us a basilisk glare. I, personally, planned to rake Poppy over the hottest coals I could find. (I was the shorter of the two.) I am sure all the Uppities who could see that far noticed that we had matching expressions, compounded of social smiles and grim eyes. The other Uppities saw a very short woman in her mid-thirties with a ridiculous amount of brown hair and a wonderful pair of green-rimmed glasses, and a taller, very slim, black-haired woman of the same age, who had a narrow and agreeable face. The room was full of Uppity Women, and they’d all turned to look at us when Poppy’s name had been called and we’d had to say she wasn’t there. We’d kept a chair open for Poppy the whole meeting, but she’d never shown up. Chapter One Melinda sat next to me at the table nearest the door. ![]()
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