where she opened the sack and poured some flour into the smaller
plastic container Kate used in the kitchen. While Helen neatly
stacked the rest of the delivery in the storeroom, Kate poured her a
bubbly pink lemonade, the kind that Helen loved, from France, one
of the many foreign places she was dying to visit.
?It?s not that you?re so freakishly strong for someone so thin that
bothers me. What really pisses me off,? Kate said as she sliced
some cherries and cheese for Helen to snack on, ?is that you never
get winded. Not even in this heat.?
?I get winded,? Helen lied.
?You sigh. Big difference.?
?I?ve just got bigger lungs than you.?
?But since you?re taller, you?d need more oxygen, wouldn?t you??
They clinked glasses and sipped their lemonade, calling it even.
Kate was a bit shorter and plumper than Helen, but that didn?t
make her either short or fat. Helen always thought of the word
zaftig when she saw Kate, which she had a notion meant ?sexy
curvy.? She never used it, though, in case Kate took it the wrong
way.
?Is the book club on tonight?? Helen asked.
?Uh-huh. But I doubt anyone will want to talk about Kundera,?
Kate said with a smirk, jingling the ice cubes in her glass.
?Why? Hot gossip??
?Smokin? hot. This crazy-big family just moved to the island.?
?The place in ?Sconset?? Helen asked. At Kate?s nod, she rolled
her eyes.
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?Oh-ho! Too good to dish with the rest of us?? Kate teased, flicking
the condensed water from the side of her glass in Helen?s
direction.