“Nonsense, dear.”
“But I only brought a few clothes.”
“That’s why God invented credit cards, dear.”
“But I really don’t have the money to—”
“Oh, poo, pah!” Mrs. Ledbetter exclaimed. “We’ll do a bit of shopping, get you all fixed up. We’ll rack up a few credit cards, let the accountant sort it out, take it out of Jackson’s inheritance. Really, Martha, I insist. We’ll have ourselves a lovely time. When all these children aren’t hanging on our tits, we’ll go out and have ourselves some Bloody Marys. You’d like that. I know you would.”
“I’ve never had a Bloody Mary,” Mama said, blushing.
“Maybe we’ll chase some men too. At our age, anything can—and does—happen. I insist. Tell me you will.”
“I should be getting home.”