Crying Child by Barbara Michaels

on, I’ll go up with you and make sure you don’t cheat.”
    She continued to chat as I got undressed. To hear her talk, you wouldn’t have thought she had a care in the world. I even enjoyed hearing her scold me, she sounded like the old Mary.
    “I’d have thought by now you would havelearned to take care of your clothes,” she said, holding up the shorts I had just discarded. “Look at this—a big rip. They look like new shorts, too.”
    “They were cheap,” I said carelessly. “Four-fifty, on sale.”
    “Oh, Jo.”
    She looked so distressed that I laughed.
    “Now don’t start that, Mary. I know I’m just a poor underprivileged orphan who can’t afford a decent mink. But you are not going to rush me off to Saks for a whole new wardrobe.”
    “Your birthday is coming up.”
    “Coming up! It’s in August, my friend, in case you’ve forgotten.”
    “There are a couple of decent shops in the village. We’ll go shopping this afternoon. Gosh, Jo, do you realize how long it’s been since we had a good shopping binge together?”
    There are more important things than pride, as Ran had said. I looked at Mary’s eager face and I wasn’t even aware of a mental struggle.
    “Twist my arm,” I said.

Chapter
    5
    RAN DROVE US INTO TOWN AFTER LUNCH. HE SAIDhe had some business at the dock—something to do with the boat he had bought and was having fitted up. I thought his behavior toward me was a dead giveaway, he was so awkward and overly hearty; but Mary didn’t seem to be aware of any nuances, though in her normal state she was keenly conscious of other people’s feelings. It wasn’t a pleasant ride, though; I was too self-conscious. For the first time I was glad to have Ran go away. He dropped us in front of one of the shops Mary had mentioned and asked where and when we wanted to meet him.
    “We’ll need at least two hours,” Mary said with a smile. “You should see this girl’s wardrobe, Ran.I’ll tell you, we’ll meet you at the Inn at four-thirty. You can buy us a drink before we go home.”
    The shop was small but the clothes were cute. The prices horrified me, after my year of poverty.
    “Forty dollars for a pair of slacks,” I yelped, holding them up. “And this stretch material is completely impractical, Mary; five minutes in those brambles and they would be pulled to pieces.”
    The saleslady, a sleek elderly person with short gray hair, gave me a nasty look, but Mary just grinned. She bought the slacks herself; the lemony yellow color and the yellow-orange-rose print of the shirt that went with it looked pretty with her dark hair. I let her talk me into a couple of pairs of jeans and a dress—though the price tag on that simple little number set my teeth on edge.
    It was fun, though; fun to come out onto the sidewalk carrying shopping bags and parcels; fun to stand blinking in the fresh air wondering what to do next; and knowing that there isn’t a single bloody thing youhave to do.
    We sauntered along the sidewalk looking in all the windows. The shopping area was a funny mixture. There were older stores, like the drugstore and grocery and a store with things for boats—practical stores. Mixed in with them were the newer buildings which catered to the developing tourist trade. The Island Boutique, with itsfake antique facade, was one of them, and shortly I spotted another—my long-desired antique shop.
    Mary laughed when I pointed it out.
    “Sure, we’ve got plenty of time. You know who runs the place, don’t you? Will’s ex-girlfriend.”
    “Sue?”
    Mary eyed me.
    “You remember her name, do you?”
    “Yeah…So that’s why Will looked so supercilious when I talked about antique shops.”
    “He acts like such a fool,” Mary said disgustedly. “This is a small place, people can’t avoid one another; but Will behaves as if that poor girl were Medea.”
    “If she jilted him—”
    “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Jo, that was years ago. Why can’t he forget it? She