Corpse Suzette

about the topic of weight. But we need to be patient. It isn’t easy
being overly-curvaceous in a supermodel-skinny world.”
    “But I love curves,” Ryan
said, giving Savannah an approving once-over.
    John nodded vigorously. “As
do I! We both appreciate the sensuous beauty of a voluptuous woman.”
    “Oh, shut up,” she snapped.
“You’re both shameful teases.” She took the last bowl from Ryan and emptied the
remainder of the whipped cream on top of it. Then she shoved the tray in John’s
direction. “Here, take that in there, give them a bowl, and find out what they
want to drink. And whatever you do, don’t give Abigail the one with the extra whipped
cream... unless she asks for it. She’s bound to get riled if you do.”
     
    John and Ryan didn’t stay
long. Not nearly as long as Savannah would have liked. She had hoped they would
at least hang around long enough for Tammy to work up the courage to tell
Abigail about her “gift.”
    But they were long gone,
and it was just the three women and the two cats when Tammy dropped her
bombshell.
    Savannah was sitting in her
comfy chair, letting Cleopatra lick whipped cream off her fingertip when it
happened.
    “I have a really special
reason why I invited you to come visit me,” Tammy began. She was sitting on
Savannah’s footstool and facing Abigail, who was on the sofa, her feet propped
on the coffee table.
    Normally, Savannah didn’t
allow people to put their shoes on the table. It had been Granny Reid’s and
that made it sacred. But there was something about Abigail that didn’t invite
criticism, advice, or even a simple request. Savannah wouldn’t have admitted
that she was actually afraid of Abigail Simpson, but she was.
    In the first place, Abigail
wasn’t what she had been expecting. Savannah knew that Tammy came from a
well-to-do East coast family, and knowing that Abigail lived in New York she
had anticipated a stylish dresser. But Abby was less than Fifth Avenue chic. If
she had, indeed, been walking down Fifth Avenue, she probably would have been
mistaken for a bag lady.
    Tammy had called her
“grooming impaired” and that was kind.
    Her waist-length hair hung
in a limp braid down her back and looked as though it hadn’t been washed in a
month of Sundays. She wore no makeup of any sort on her sallow face, and while
Savannah didn’t particularly wear a lot herself, she couldn’t help thinking
that even a bit of color on Abigail’s cheeks and a dab of lipstick would have
made her look better. Maybe even... alive.
    Her blouse and skirt hung
in shapeless drapes around her, the top a bright paisley print and the skirt an
equally brilliant plaid. Her shoes were scuffed black boots with laces that
were knotted in several places.
    The only sign of vanity or
personal fashion statement was her jewelry. She wore enormous gold hoops in her
ears and at least eight or ten bangles on each wrist.
    Yes, “grooming impaired”
was kind.
    Earlier that afternoon,
upon opening her front door and seeing Abigail standing there in all of her
frumpish glory, Savannah had decided that this “Emerge” idea of Tammy’s was a
pretty good one, all in all.
    But after a few hours in
Abigail’s company, Savannah was afraid for Tammy’s life. Abby seemed to take
offense at absolutely everything that might even be remotely weight-related. If
she glowered when told she would have a really “big” time in California, how
would she take the news that her cousin thought she needed “making over?”
    “You invited me here for a special reason?” Abigail’s eyes narrowed. “What special reason? You said it was because
Mom told you I needed a vacation after working so hard this last semester.”
    “Well, it is, partly.”
Tammy scooped the cat off Savannah’s lap and held her tightly. She looked like
a scared kid clutching a teddy bear. Savannah winced when Cleo growled and
switched her tail back and forth. If Tammy kept squeezing her like that, she
was going to be on the receiving end of fang and claw.
    Cleo knew when she was
being used.
    “It’s really a... a
wonderful surprise,” Tammy stammered. “You’re just going to love it!”
    “I doubt it,” Abigail
replied with a sniff. “If I were going to love it, you wouldn’t be beating
around the bush like this. Spit it out.
    “I won something for you.”
    “What is it?”
    “It’s a stay at a spa. A
new luxury spa here in San Carmelita that—”
    “I don’t do spas.”
    “But...