If this had been a scene in the movie of her life any discerning director would have left it on the cutting room floor. It was not elegant, the crying was not pretty, and she was spilling more gin on the carpet.
The next day I booked a trip to Manhattan. I couldn’t promise her that we could leave Nebraska, not yet, we didn’t have the money but I had enough squirreled away for a jaunt to somewhere a winter rose could thrive.
Miranda was ecstatic. She bought four new dresses, a new luggage set, shoes and jewelry and expensive makeup. I let her do it because I wanted her to be happy and in all honesty I thought she’d get it out of her system.
