Got Your Number

wanted to get out of there."
    Dee's eyes cut back to her. "And let someone else clean up your mess."
    "Trenton was the one who changed his mind."
    "The boy had cold feet, that's all. If your cousin hadn't interfered, and if you'd behaved as if you had good sense, all of this could have been settled yesterday, and you'd be on your honeymoon instead of standing here dressed like a refugee and smelling like throw-up."
    "It wasn't her fault," Roxann said. "Lay off."
    They both turned. She was leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed.
    " You may leave," Dee said pointedly. "And remove that rattletrap from my driveway."
    Roxann pushed away from the door. "Nice to see you again, Angora. Good luck in Chicago."
    Angora watched her leave, feeling as if her last link to freedom were slipping away. She couldn't even eke out a goodbye. When the front door closed, hot tears sprang to her eyes. She turned back to Dee. "Mother, I really am sorry. I know you and Daddy spent a lot of money on the wedding—"
    "It's not the money," Dee said, waving impatiently. "I took out an insurance policy."
    Angora blinked. "What?"
    "I took out an insurance policy on the wedding expenditures in case something like this happened."
    "In case I was jilted?" Angora asked, incredulous.
    Dee sighed. "Well, I was right, wasn't I?"
    Angora's body went completely cold, but somehow her feet moved, carrying her back into the foyer where she'd seen her purse sitting on the table among boxes of embossed napkins and little bags of unused birdseed. She shoved her life list inside the Prada bag—thank goodness black crocodile went with everything, including flannel—then slung it over her shoulder.
    "Where are you going, young lady?"
    "Away from here." She jogged to the front door, yanked it open, and ran outside, taking the stairs as fast as she could in her heels. "Roxann! Roxann, wait!"
    The van was pulling away from the sidewalk, but to her immense relief, the brake lights came on.
    She ran up to the passenger side door and tugged until it opened.
    "What's wrong?" Roxann asked.
    "I can't stay here. Take me with you."
    "Angora—"
    "Please, Roxann?" She blinked up a few desperate tears. "Please."

Chapter Ten

    ROXANN STUDIED ANGORA’S tearful face. She could imagine the insensitive things Dee had said—the woman was a shrew. With the possibility of Frank Cape on her tail, though, the last thing she needed was to have Angora slowing her down, and she didn't want to involve her cousin in her dilemma.
    "Oh, God, here comes Mother. Please, Roxann?"
    She sighed. On the other hand, Angora was the only relative she had who actually wanted to spend time with her, and even her cousin's too-chatty company would be a respite from the loneliness that had seized her lately. Plus if Frank Cape found her, he might be less likely to confront her with a witness along. In the side mirror, she could see Dee bearing down the sidewalk, muumuu flying.
    "Okay, get in."
    Angora squealed, sprang into the seat, and slammed the door. "Go."
    Roxann gunned the engine, which backfired and left a cloud of blue smoke that obscured her aunt. She'd definitely sealed her fate as far as Dee's will was concerned.
    Angora laughed like a child. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! I couldn't stay in that house one more second." She sighed. "I've dug my grave with Mother this time."
    If Angora had made it to the Miss America pageant, her talent could have been passive-aggressivism, which she had down to an art. Play Miss Goody Two-shoes until she was ready to burst, then misbehave, wallow in remorse, tearfully confess, beg forgiveness, and start all over again. Roxann slowed. "Do you want me to take you back?"
    "No."
    Impressed, Roxann accelerated. "Give Dee time, she'll come around."
    Angora snorted. "Mother will never change. When I die, she'll stand over my casket and bemoan my laugh lines."
    Yesterday she herself had turned up a radio commercial for a new antiwrinkle cream, so she couldn't cast stones. "She means well." Actually, Dee was just plain mean, but there was no use fanning the flame.
    Angora shifted in her seat, filling in the silence by arranging bulky flannel around the seat belt. "It's funny—I don't remember much about your mother," she murmured. "Except that she smelled like lemon furniture polish."
    Roxann blinked—they'd never discussed her own mother, not even when they roomed together. "She...Mom was always cleaning. Back then, Dad liked an orderly house." Because