"Emily!" Shirley Angowski flashed me a welcoming smile. "Sit down. Join us. We were just discussing our trip to Mount Pilatus today."

The Rassmusons and Teigs nodded to me over their coffee cups. Jane Hanson waved before returning her attention to her bowl of cornflakes. I stared at Helen Teig. She obviously hadn't had enough light to apply her makeup this morning because her eyebrows were fern green. One of the hazards of keeping your eye shadow stick and eyebrow pencil in the same cosmetic bag.

"Is that Alfred Dunner?" asked Helen.

I looked over my shoulder. "Where?"

"No. Are you wearing Alfred Dunner? I have a top just like the one you have on, and it's an Alfred Dunner."

There were two of these tops floating around? Bad news for the sighted world.

"Sleeves are kinda short," said Dick Teig. "Are they supposed to stop at your elbows?"

Of course the sleeves were short. The top belonged to Nana. She was four-foot-ten. She had arms like a dwarf. "The hotel misplaced my suitcase, so I'm having to borrow. Nana was kind enough to lend me this Alfred Dunner creation this morning. It's her favorite." It was a polyester pullover in pale pink with teddy bears dressed in tutus dancing all over the front and back. WE LOVE OUR GRAMMA was embroidered in bold metallic floss across the front. My brother's kids had given it to her, which explained why it was her favorite. And since it was her favorite, how could I refuse to wear it when she'd offered it to me? I contemplated skipping Mount Pilatus this morning to run into town to buy something without teddy bears. Something sleek, black, and sexy. But I couldn't shirk my escort responsibilities, so I'd have to wait until later. I glanced past the velvet draperies to the darkness beyond. Maybe the sun would even be up by then.

"You're looking awful pale this morning," Lucille Rassmuson said to me. "Have you had a blood count taken lately? You look anemic. Or it could be leukemia. People your age get leukemia all the time."

Now there was a pleasant thought. The good news was, the day could only get better from here. I flashed a smile at Lucille. "I'm sporting the anemic look this morning because all my makeup is in my suitcase, which, let me repeat, has been misplaced."

"We'll be running a special on makeup around Christmas," Jane Hanson volunteered helpfully. "We're going to call it 'Jingle Bells Days.' Buy one product, get a second product half price. And we'll also be giving away midget lipsticks. Midgets make nice stocking stuffers."

"If I looked as bad as you do without makeup, I'd see a plastic surgeon," Lucille said to me. "They do a procedure now where they tattoo pink pigment onto your cheeks to give you a permanent rosy glow. They've been known to screw up though. One woman ended up with two red rectangles on her face. And she couldn't even tone them down with foundation. Disfigured her permanently."