“I wish he wouldn’t,” I said.

“Look, we have to spend fifty dollars a day to board my cats. So it only seems fair to give you at least the same for the boys.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. I knew I was hypersensitive when it came to the boys and this wedding and Sharon and all of it, but to put the boys in a similar category as her cats? Should I have asked if that was fifty dollars per cat?

“I’d be happy to take care of them. Let’s just leave it at that. Do y’all have a date yet?”

“Yep.”

She gave me the date and I wrote it down. We made a bit of insincere chitchat and a little blah blah blah and finally I managed to get her to hang up. Once she got started talking about herself, it was like a freight train gathering speed. There was just no stopping the thing.

“Who was that?” Momma yelled from the other room.

“The soon-to-be Mrs. Arch!” I yelled back.

There was silence for a moment. Then she said, “She calls him ‘Arch’ now? What kind of a stupid nickname is that?”

I could hardly believe the unprecedented words that were on the tip of my tongue, but here they came.

“I agree with you,” I said.

I decided to look in her room to be sure she hadn’t fainted. She had not.

“So, what’s the latest in Peyton Place?” she asked.

“I told her we’d keep the boys while they go on their honeymoon to Bermuda,” I said, and I was sure I sounded glum.

Then I told her about the kennel fees and she said, “You know, normally, I’d tell you that you were too sensitive for your own good.”

“And that I’m an idiot about men,” I said, just throwing it out there to add insult to my own injury.

This brought a small harrumph from the QB.

“I think you and Leslie are right. Arch is making a mistake. But you know what? It’s his mistake to make. We can’t do anything except keep our arms around the little boys and let them know they’re loved by us. Archie will regain his senses after he’s lived with her for a while.”

“I wish I had your faith,” I said.

Later on, when I was in the kitchen making dinner, Leslie sauntered in.

“Whatcha making?” she said.

“Something to match my mood,” I said.

“Ragout?”

“Very funny. No, I’m making a Portuguese seafood stew.”

“So you’re stewing over what? Archie?”

“Yeah, it’s like my favorite thing these days. Would you believe Sharon called me this morning? I nearly fainted when I heard her nasty voice on the other end of the phone. God, she is so self-absorbed.”

“Lemme guess. She wants you to be her maid of honor?”