earned a break. Besides, I have paper work to finish on Saturday, so I’ll be here at the clinic most of the day, anyway,” Doc Harmon told her as she was getting ready to leave work. “Go out tonight. Relax, have fun.”
“I’ve got some unpacking left to do.” She pictured the lone box of books sitting in the bedroom.
“Oh, too exciting,” Erline drawled, waving her freshly painted nails to dry them. “How can you stand it?”
Robin ignored her jibe, but Doc Harmon swiveled his head. “And what are you doing this weekend?” he asked the receptionist. “Got a hot date?”
“In this town?” she shot back. “Are you kidding? The men around here are either married or they’re your age. Or both.” She rolled her eyes and fanned herself. “Be still my heart.”
He peered at her over the tops of his glasses while Robin waited expectantly. “Or they’re just too darned picky,” he drawled.
Erline blew a bubble and then she turned her attention to Robin. “My girlfriend Carol and I are going out for dinner and a couple of drinks. Want to come along?”
Robin was about to refuse when Doc spoke up for her. “Good idea. She’ll go.”
Why did everyone she’d met think they had to help run her life? “I have things to do,” she protested.
He raised his eyebrows, his expression stern. “You need to get out, meet people. Bring us more business. Charlie’s Heart is a good place to start.”
“Charlie’s what?” she echoed.
“It’s a restaurant and lounge,” Erline interjected. “Food’s good, and they’ve got live music on the weekends, even though the dance floor’s the size of my desk.”
Oh, great, Robin thought. A bar with music and dancing. Men on the prowl. “I don’t think so.”
Erline ducked her head and pulled open a file drawer. “Your loss.”
“I’ve got to call the lab.” Doc Harmon headed for the back room with a folder under his arm.
Despite Erline’s colorful appearance and wise-cracking attitude, Robin liked her. Beneath her cocky veneer, the older woman seemed to have a genuine affection for the animals they treated. She shrugged off Robin’s mistakes and swept aside her apologies with a smile or a joke.
Robin hated the idea that she might have hurt the older woman’s feelings. And Doc was right: Robin owed it to him and the practice to get out and meet people.
“If the invitation is still open, I’d like to go,” she said hesitantly.
Erline’s head popped back up, and she blew a bubble. “Great. We’ll pick you up at eight, so we don’t miss happy hour. Carol’s a hoot. You’ll like her.” She studied Robin with a considering expression as she worked her gum. “Wear something more, you know, feminine.”
Fashion advice from a Barbie doll look-alike, even one with a heart of gold, wasn’t exactly what Robin wanted to hear. Clothes weren’t a priority of hers. “How dressy is this place?”
Erline pursed her lips. “Oh, people wear just about anything, Western, casual, whatever.” Her expression brightened. “I’ll bet we’re about the same size except for our height. Want to borrow something of mine?”
Today she was wearing an electric-blue leather miniskirt paired with a striped peasant blouse in some shiny fabric that dipped low in the front and clung to her generous curves like a coat of paint. Matching feather and rhinestone earrings swung wildly whenever she moved her head. If she and Robin were the same size, so were Texas and Rhode Island.
“No, thanks. That’s really nice of you to offer, but I’ll find something.” Robin hoped her smile offset her hasty refusal.
For a moment she thought Erline was going to argue. From the other room she heard a fit of coughing, and she wondered if Doc had heard them.
The phone on Erline’s desk rang. “See you later,” she told Robin with a wink as she reached for the receiver.
Robin left the clinic with mixed feelings about the evening ahead. By seven-thirty she was kicking herself for agreeing to go. On the bed before her was every garment she owned that was remotely suitable. Not only wouldn’t anything there measure up to Erline’s assessment of feminine attire, even Robin was painfully aware of the lack.
Hands on hips, she stared down at the skimpy selection. She’d ruled out the cotton slacks and tailored cotton blouses she’d bought for work, the worn jeans and faded T-shirts, the shorts she saved for hot weather. That left two dresses she wore to church and one with a halter top she’d bought on impulse for a party back in school. She’d changed her mind about attending and the tag was still attached. No Returns, it said. All Sales Final.
What had she been thinking when she bought it? The dress was shorter than she liked and the back dipped too low for her to wear a bra with it. At least the color was plain dark blue, not showy at all, and she had sandals that would match it.
Decision made, she was dressed and ready fifteen minutes early. Restlessly she paced the small living room, watching through the window for Erline’s car so she could go outside as soon as the other two women pulled into the driveway and save them the trouble of getting out. She would have waited on the porch except that Mae and Ed were working in their yard and she didn’t feel like chatting with them—or answering Mae’s inevitable questions.
Robin hadn’t yet returned their plate. Aunt Dot had taught her never to return a dish empty, so maybe tomorrow she’d make some brownies if it wasn’t too hot to run the oven.
Before she could speculate further, a shiny red Honda turned into her driveway with two women in side. Recognizing Erline in the passenger seat, Robin grabbed her purse. Out of habit, she locked the side door after her and waved at her neighbors as Erline got out of the car to let Robin climb in the back. Erline was wearing a tight sleeveless red knit dress with matching hoop earrings. She glanced at Robin’s outfit, but didn’t comment.
“You don’t get carsick, do you?” Erline asked as she pulled the seat forward. “Because if you do, I can ride back there, but we’re only two minutes from Charlie’s.”
“I’ll be fine.” As she climbed in, Robin nodded shyly at the woman behind the wheel. “Hi.”
“Carol, this is Robin,” Erline said. “And vice versa.”
“Nice to meet you,” Carol drawled. She had long brown hair with lighter streaks and a round, pretty face that was carefully made up.
“Carol’s from Atlanta, in case you can’t tell.” Erline’s brassy blond hair sprang away from her face in waves and was puffed up on top. Riding in the car with the two other women, Robin felt like a plain little sparrow trapped in a parakeet cage.
Not an especially flattering image for any of them.
“How long have you lived here?” Robin asked Carol as they turned the corner at the end of her street.
“Ten years.” Carol glanced into the rearview mirror. “I teach secondary school in Elizabeth. Erline tells me you’re from Chicago.”
“Born
