"Come on in, Marie."
Marie Sheldon opened the door and leaned into the bedroom. "Good lord, sweetie, you're not even dressed yet.
Marie's voice came from deep within her throat. She was a small, thin, vital woman with vivid blue eyes, a pert bobbed nose, and a mass of bleached blond hair shaped in a shag style. She might have been very provocative except for her square-cut chin.
"I go through this every morning," Dana said irritably. "If only I could get organized and lay things out the night before, but I always wait until the last moment."
Marie moved beside Dana. "How about the blue skirt?"
Dana slipped the skirt off the hanger and then threw it down on the carpet. "Damn! I sent the matching blouse to the cleaners."
"If you're not careful, you'll start foaming at the mouth."
"I can't help it," Dana said. "Nothing seems to go right lately."
"Since you walked out on your husband, you mean."
"The last thing I need now is a sermon."
"Settle down, sweetie. If you want to take out your wrath on somebody, then stand in front of a mirror."
Dana stood, tense as a toy doll whose spring has been wound too tightly. Marie could see an emotional crying jag coming on and beat a strategic retreat.
"Relax. Take your time. I'll go down and warm up the car.
Dana waited until Marie's footsteps died before she went into the bathroom and downed two Librium capsules. As soon as the tranquilizer began to take effect, she calmly slipped on a turquoise linen dress, straightened her hair, pulled on a pair of flat-heeled shoes, and headed downstairs.
; On the way to NUMA headquarters, Dana sat bright and perky while tapping her foot to the music from the car radio.
"One pill or two?" Marie said casually.
"Umm?"
"I said, one pill or two. It's a safe bet that when you instantly transform from a bitch into a Miss Goody Two-Shoes, you've been popping pills."
"I meant it about the sermon."
"Okay, but a warning, old roommate. If I find you flaked out on the floor some dark night from an overdose, I'm going to quietly fold my tent and silently steal off into the night. I can't stand traumatic death scenes."
"You're exaggerating."
Marie looked at her. "Am I? You've been hitting that stuff like a health nut gobbles vitamins."
"I'm all right," Dana said defiantly.
"Like hell you are. You're a classic case of an emotionally depressed and frustrated female. The worst kind, I might add."
"It takes time for the ragged edges to dull."
"Ragged edges, my ass. You mean it dulls your guilt."
"I won't delude myself into believing I did the best thing by leaving Gene. But I'm convinced I did the right thing."
"Don't you think he needs you?"
"I used to hope he would reach out to me, yet every time we're together, we fight like alley cats. He's closed me out, Marie. It's the same old tired story. When a man like Gene becomes a slave to the demands of his work, he throws up a wall that can't be breached. And the stupid reason, the incredibly stupid reason, is because he imagines that sharing his problems automatically throws me on the firing line, too. A man accepts the thankless burden of responsibility. We women do not. To us, life is a game we play one day at a time. We never plan ahead like men." Her face became sad and drawn. "I can only wait and come back after Gene falls wounded in his private battle. Then, and only then, am I certain he'll welcome a return of my company."