The Bride-In-Law. Dixie Browning
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“Why? Has she been complaining? Funny, she looked pretty comfortable last time I saw her.”
“Bernie’s never been one to complain.” He lifted an eyebrow at that. “That doesn’t mean your father didn’t get her there under false pretenses.”
“You think he ensorcelled her?”
“He en-what?”
“It means—”
“I know what it means!”
“Yeah, well—I read it in one of my son’s comic books.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“Hey, don’t knock comic books. You’d be amazed at what you can learn from those things.”
She rolled her eyes, and even behind the lenses, he couldn’t help but notice their size, clarity and color. He wondered if she ever wore contacts and decided she wasn’t the type. That would suggest vanity. Whatever her faults, vanity probably wasn’t one of them. About all she had to be vain about, so far as he could see, was a pair of world-class ankles, and she ruined the effect of those by wearing ugly platform shoes.
She held out the glasses, and he took them and started to ram them into his pocket along with the mail, then thought better of it. “I don’t suppose you have a case for these things?”
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