ISBN: 9780373895700

"They're so normal ." Luisa lit her cigarette and snapped the lighter shut. "And how is that a problem?" "I didn't say it was a problem. But they named their dog Spot." "The dog does … Meer...

"They're so normal ." Luisa lit her cigarette and snapped the lighter shut. "And how is that a problem?" "I didn't say it was a problem. But they named their dog Spot." "The dog does have a spot, Rachel." It was true. The dog in question had a spot. And as dogs went, Spot was okaynot too yappy or slobbery. In fact, he was a completely normal dog, exactly right for his owners, Charles and Susan Forrest, my future in-laws and the source of all this rampant normalcy. The phrase my future in-laws still felt unreal to me, even though Peter and I had been engaged for several months now and in spite of the very real engagement party we were currently attending at the Forrests' San Francisco home. Or, to be more accurate, the engagement party from which Luisa and I were sneaking a break. She had wanted a cigarette, and the sight of my family mingling with Peter's family, especially our grandmothers with their heads close together, undoubtedly hammering out just how many children we should have, was enough to make a little second-hand smoke seem nearly appealing. We'd slipped out of the house through the side door and walked the short distance to the top of the Lyon Street steps, which led down from Pacific Heights to the Palace of Fine Arts and the Bay beyond. The steps were the local hot spot for underage drinkers on a Saturday night. Clumps of kids gathered on the landings, discreetly sipping from beer cans and plastic cups and apparently unconcerned that even in June the air was damp and chill. I heard the staccato of high-heeled feet approaching, and one of the kids looked in our direction and whistled, a long, piercing wolf whistle. Since Luisa and I had already been there for several minutes, I knew the sound had nothing to do with us. I turned, and sure enough, Hilary was heading our way. Six-foot tall women with platinum hair and a proclivity for small clothing generate a disproportionate amount of whistling, especially in a city where most people's wardrobes are comprised largely of f leece. Fortunately, Hilary enjoyed the occasional objectification. She f lashed the whistler a smile and pulled herself up to sit on the stone railing. "I thought I'd find you two out here." "Luisa needed a cigarette," I explained. "And you're freaking out," Hilary said. "Not at all," I said, which was almost the truth. There was nothing quite like being the guest of honor at an engagement party to remind a person she had commitment issues, not to mention several other relationship-related neuroses, but I was proud of the progress I'd made in developing emotional maturity. Between the party and the quality time Peter and I had planned with his parents over the next few days, my skills were definitely being put to the test, but I was confident the Forrests would never guess just how new I was to this whole normalcy thing. "I don't know how you people do it," said Hilary. "'You people?'" asked Luisa, raising one dark, well-sh Fiction Fiction eBook, Red Dress Ink<