Reno
She took me into her living room, backed away from me, revolved, and asked me how I liked the new dress. I said I liked it. She explained that the color was rose beige and that the dinguses on the side were something or other, winding up:
“And you really think I look good in it?”
“You always look good,” I said. “Lew Yard and Pete the Finn went calling on old Elihu this afternoon.”
She made a face at me and said:
“You don’t give a damn about my dress. What did they do there?”
“A powwow, I suppose.”
She looked at me through her lashes and asked:
“Don’t you really know where Max is?”
Then I did. There was no use admitting I hadn’t known all along. I said:
“At Willsson’s, probably, but I haven’t been interested enough to make sure.”
“That’s goofy of you. He’s got reasons for not liking you and me. Take mama’s advice and nail him quick, if you like living and like having mama live too.”
I laughed and said: