Reality was setting in on Monday morning and she had agreed to a lunch date with the girls. Maris had been strangely short in her text messages since she’d gotten home last night, only messaging once to say congratulations and again this morning to ask if she was going to stop over at Lulabelle’s. After lunch, it was her first stop.
Her mother on the other hand had somehow found the old Aileen buried deep and the gold-digging hussy had already cleared out the savings account by nine in the morning, had moved everything into a new account and was getting ready to board a plane with her new bestie Daragh to do foolishly wicked things. They promised to be back in time for the fashion show. Caris wasn’t sure she wanted the pair there. Her mother had twenty years of being repressed to make up
