Asha!âwhenâ¦
âDelilah, just what the hell do you think youâre doing?â
But I was too caught up in the pretty images on the screen before me to feel as appropriately guilty, snagged and embarrassed as I might otherwise have felt.
âOh, never mind that.â I pooh-poohed her. âLook. Look! â
âI donât want to look,â Hillary said, totally peeved and sporting quite a case of bed head, I must say. âI want my sleep.â She grabbed the mouse and moved it toward the shut-down menu. âAnd I want you toââ
âNo!â I stopped her hand. Then, feeling totally contrite, I wheedled, âPlease look.â
âOh, all right. â
At first, she just looked annoyed, but as I ceded control of the mouse and she started to click on the images of the shoes and boots and sandals, enlarging some of the images as I had done earlierâ¦
âWellââ she was still resisting the pull ââIâm not crazy about some of the red ones.â
âOh, me, neither,â I said quickly, trying to sound agreeable. And it really wasnât much of a stretch since, despite red being one of my favorite colors, the red pairs didnât grab me as much as the others.
I saw her eyes stray back toward the comfort of her rumpled sheets. Thinking I couldnât let her get away, since I really did need a cohort here, if for nothing else than to keep me from being so lonely in the midst of my own obsessions, I grabbed the mouse back and quickly clicked on a different image.
âLook at this,â I said eagerly.
It was the Asha.
âOh, my!â Hillary said, her eyes going all glittery, as my own had no doubt done a short time ago.
âAnd this,â I said, clicking again.
It was the Ghost, which was maybe even more spectacular than the Asha, if such a thing were possible.
âOh, my! â Hillary said again.
âAnd this.â I clicked one last time.
It was the Parson Flat.
â I would buy that shoe!â she trumpeted.
I knew the Parson Flat would get her.
âHow muchâ¦?â she started to ask.
In another second, sheâd be racing for her Dooney & Bourke bag to fish out her Amex.
âBut thatâs the whole problem!â I all but whined.
âWhat?â Hillary said. âAre they too much money?â
âI donât know, â I said. âI keep clicking around, but I donât see any prices here.â
âOh, dear,â Hillary said. âThatâs never good.â
âWhat do you mean?â
âHave you ever eaten in a restaurant where they donât list the prices on the menu?â
âUm, no. Who do you think I am, you? â
âTrust me, itâs never cheap when they donât list the prices.â
We both stared at the screen.
I tried on a nonchalant shrug.
âSo?â I said. âHow expensive can a little bit of leather and maybe some glitter be?â
âWho knows?â Hillary said. âBut Iâm guessing very.â
âThereâs only one way to find out,â I said.
âHmm?â She was still transfixed by the Parson Flats.
âRoad trip!â
âOh, no,â she said, successfully tearing her gaze away. âThis is your insanity, not mine.â
âPlease.â I was back in wheedle mode. âWouldnât you like to at least see if you could afford them?â
Before she could answer, I clicked to the part of the catalog where boutique locations were listed. I didnât think Iâd ever persuade her to go to London or Dublin or Milan or Moscow or Kuwait City or Hong Kong, Korea, Bangkok or even São Paulo to shop for shoes, although I suppose Paris might have been nice. Hillary always said she wanted to see Paris. But at least I could tryâ¦
âThere are two stores right in Manhattan,â I said. âOne in the Olympic Tower on Fifth Avenue, the other on Madison. We