Ivan often did, but that was mostly under threat of death or worse from my mother. Isabeau, I don't think, ever considered me a real person, worthy of...her compassion or personal interest, unless I could satisfy some momentary desire to hurt or torment.But that changed abruptly two days after the trip.I had jumped out of the truck as soon as it came to a stop in front of our garage and run into the house. My mother called out asking how the trip had gone. I ignored her and darted up the stairs. I then unbuttonedthe collar button, then the next button. I still wasn't sure if I likedthe blouse or not, but it was too late to find another that I knew wasironed. Grabbing my purse and the bottle of Southern Comfort, I hustledout to the car to drive over to Carrie's, grateful for the addedmobility of pants, my heels clicking all the way.***As I expected, I was the last to arrive. I could hear the giggling of ahalf-dozen of Carrie's friends as I waited on the front porch afterringing the. More

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