“What do you think about this hat?” Rosalie asked. It was a sweet little pale pink number, adorned with flowers and a turned-up brim.

“I think you look swell,” Betty said.

“It offsets your black hair perfectly. But it’s not practical,” Nora added.

“Why, oh why must you be such a killjoy? Who cares about practical?”

“I guess I do. Then again, I wouldn’t have any occasion to wear something like that.”

Rosalie nudged her playfully. “That’s because you’re a shut-in.”

“I am no such thing.”

“In the past month, how many times have you left your room, other than to eat or go to work?”

Nora frowned, knowing she was beat. “Several.”

“Only because we made you,” Betty said.

“And when are you going to let Del take you on a proper date? The guy’s crazy about you.”

“H-he is not,” Nora spluttered. “He’s a good friend.”

“A good friend who’d like to be a lot more,” Rosalie muttered.

“You’re reading too much into it.” Nora blushed to the roots of her blond hair.

Betty and Rosalie closed ranks, standing side-by-side with their arms crossed.

She needed to redirect this conversation. “You two are boy-crazy. That’s all there is to it. It’s all you think about.”

“You have to be one of the densest women I’ve ever met. That boy drops hints everywhere and follows you around like a puppy dog. The only reason he doesn’t make a move is because he knows he’ll send you running for the hills.”

“So, instead he bides his time,” Betty finished for Rosalie. “Haven’t you ever had a boyfriend before?”

“She probably hasn’t, if she can’t even figure out when a boy is sweet on her.”

Nora felt like she’d been ambushed. “Whenever you two are through, let me know.”

“Aw. Don’t be sore.” Rosalie looked contrite. “We only want you to be happy.”

“I don’t need your help, thank you very much.”

“Are you…ladies…” The saleswoman gave them a disgusted once-over. “…planning to buy something?”

Nora, already feeling off-balance, snapped, “We might have, if you—”

Rosalie stepped in front of her. “How much is this hat?”

“Can’t you read the label?”

Nora couldn’t believe her ears. Never had a salesperson treated her so rudely. Again, Rosalie intervened. “I must’ve left my glasses in my other purse.”

The salesperson told her the price.

“I’ll take it.”

“Don’t—”

This time Betty took Nora by the hand and pulled her away. “Come look at the stockings with me.”

“What are you doing?” Nora whispered harshly. “That woman was insufferable.”

“You’re right. Folks here in Knoxville take one look at our muddy shoes and know where we’ve come from. They think we’re all Yankees and they despise us.”

“That’s absurd.”

“That’s a fact.”

“But Rosalie’s from right here in Tennessee.”