“I’m old-fashioned.”
The manager looked pained. “Oh, but it’s unnecessary. If Madame prefers not to use her general credit account—her privilege!—she can Set up a private account with Pompadour in only moments. If she will permit me to have her I.D.—”
“Just a moment. Can you read fine print?” Joan pointed at a notice near a portrait of President McKinley. “‘This note is legal tender for all debts, public and private.’ I shan’t get tangled up in a computer. I pay cash.”
“But, Madame—we aren’t set up for cash! I’m not certain we could make change.”
“Well, I don’t want to put you to any inconvenience. Fred.”
“Yes, Miss?”
“Take me to La Boutique.”
The manager looked horrified. “Please, Madame! I’m sure something can be arranged. One moment while I speak to our accountant.” He hurried away without waiting for an answer.
(Why the fuss, Boss honey? I’ve bought endless things for you, against your personal expenditures account. Jake said we could use it.) (Eunice, I’ve despised those moronic machines since the first time I was trapped by a book club. But I’m not just being balky. Today is not a day to admit who we are. Later—after we’re out of court—we’ll set up a “Susan Jones” account for shopping in person. If we ever do again. I can see it’s a bloody nuisance.) (Oh, no, it’s fun! You’ll see, twin. But, remember—I hold a veto until you learn something about clothes) (Sho’, sho’, little nag.) (Who are you calling a nag, you knocked-up bag?) (Happy about it, beloved?) (Wonderfully happy, Boss. Are you?) (Wonderfully. Even if it wasn’t romantic.) (Oh, but it was! We’re going to have your baby!) (Quit sniffling.) (I’m not sniffling; you are.) (Maybe we both are. Now shut up, here he comes.)
The manager beamed. “Madame! Our accountant says that it is perfectly all right to accept cash!”
“The Supreme Court will be pleased to hear it.”
“What? Oh! Madame is jesting. Of course there is a service surcharge of ten percent for—”
“Fred. La Boutique.”
“Please, Madame! I pointed out to him how unfair that is and found the most wonderful solution!”
“Really?”
“Truly, Madame. Anything you choose to buy, I’ll simply charge against my personal account—and you can pay me cash. No trouble, I’ll be happy to. My bank doesn’t make the least fuss over accepting cash deposits. Really.” (Watch it, Boss; he’ll expect a fat tip.) (If he can show us something we want, he may get it. Cost is no huhu, Eunice; we can’t get rid of the stuff.) (It’s the principle of the thing, Boss.) (Forget it and help me spend money.) (All right. But we don’t buy unless we like it.)
For the next two hours Joan spent money—and was dazed to discover how expensive women’s clothes could be. But she suppressed her early upbringing and paid attention only to an inner voice: (Not that one, twin—it’s smart but a man wouldn’t like it.) (How about this one, Eunice?) (Maybe. Have her walk it around again, then have her sit down. Show some leg.)
(Here comes ‘Winnie’ again. Is that girl a real redhead, Eunice?) (Probably a wig but doesn’t matter; she’s almost exactly Winnie’s size. That would be cute on our Winsome. Twin, see what they have in fancy gee-strings——green, for a redhead. Winnie ought to have at least one outfit intended to be seen by no one but her new boy friend.) (Okay, we’ll give ‘Bob’ a treat. Who do you think he is, beloved?) (Haven’t the faintest—and we don’t want to guess. Do we? I just hope he’s nicer to her than Paul was.)
“Mr. duValle? Do you have something exotic in a minimum-gee for a redhead? Green, I suppose. And matching cups would be interesting, too. Something nice—an intimate present for a bride.” (Bride?) (Well, it might help Winnie become a bride, Eunice—and it steers him away from thinking I’m buying it for my sweetheart.) (Who cares what he thinks?)
“Jeweled perhaps? Emeralds?”
“I wouldn’t want a bride to be mugged over a wedding present. Nor do I wish to buy her something more expensive than her bridegroom can afford. Bad taste, I think.”
“Ah, but these are synthetic emeralds. Just as lovely but quite reasonable. Yola dear—come with me.”