“Hi, Reva. It’s Pam.”
“Pam?” Reva actually sounded confused for a second. “Oh—Pam. Hang on a second.”
More muffled whispering, then Reva came back on the line. “Hi. I was just talking to my roommate, Grace. She’s spending the holiday with me.”
“That’s nice. I called to welcome you home,” Pam told her. “How’s Smith?”
“Please, don’t even mention college to me.” Reva sighed loudly. “It’s totally boring!”
“Really? I thought college life would be so much fun,” Pam said.
“You thought wrong,” Reva replied. “We actually have a curfew. We have to sign in and out of the dorm. Can you believe it? They treat us like babies. You’re lucky you’re in the real world, Pam.”
Sure, Pam thought bitterly. Like I had a choice.
“I mean, you’re working, making money, meeting people, having business lunches,” Reva continued.
Right. Five dollars an hour and a bologna sandwich from home. Pam bit her lip and forced herself not to snap at Reva. It was hard, though. Reva knew how much Pam wanted to go to college. She always enjoyed sticking a knife in someone’s sore spot.
“Well, listen, speaking of business,” Pam said, “there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.” She smoothed the scarf across her legs. It was beautiful—a soft, silky wool scarf, silkscreened with delicate golden snowflakes.
“You want to talk about business?” Reva asked skeptically. “What business?”
“My friend, Willow Sorenson—she works at the same place I do,” Pam continued. “Anyway, we took a crafts course together and we made something for Christmas.”
“Handmade gifts. How . . . charming.”
Pam ignored the sneer in Reva’s voice. “We didn’t make them to give away,” she said. “We want to sell them. And we thought maybe your father could put them in his stores.”
Reva cleared her throat. “Actually, Pam, Daddy doesn’t sell clay pots at Dalby’s.”
Pam gritted her teeth. Reva was such a snob. “It’s not clay pots,” she said, keeping the anger out of her voice. “Listen, how about if Willow and I drive over to your house?”
“Now?”
“We’ll only stay ten minutes,” Pam assured her. “We’re really anxious to show these to you.”
“Well, okay. Sure, why not? You can meet my roommate, Grace,” Reva said.
“Great! Thanks, Reva. We’ll be right over.” Pam hung up and jumped from the chair. “Come on. Let’s get going,” she said to Willow.
“The princess actually agreed to see us, huh?” Willow asked sarcastically.
Pam nodded as she and Willow began gathering the long scarves from the coffee table and carefully folding them into shopping bags. “I wish we didn’t have to talk to her at all,” she declared. “But Reva’s father does almost anything she asks. And if she likes our scarves, then Uncle Robert will definitely take them. Reva is our best chance.”
Willow picked up a bag and grabbed her car keys. Pam took the other bag and followed her out the door. They climbed into Willow’s battered blue VW Rabbit and drove down Fear Street.
“Where does she live?” Willow asked.
“North Hills,” Pam told her. “Where else?”
“Very fancy,” Willow commented. “I always wondered what it would be like to live there.”
Pam grinned. “If we make a bundle on these scarves, maybe you’ll get a chance to find out.”
“Yeah!” Willow agreed. “Hey, and if the scarves are a hit, people will want more of our designs. Not only scarves, but clothes, too!”
“We could actually start our own design company,” Pam agreed excitedly. “We’d be the designers and hire people to do the work for us.”
“And we’d never have to set foot in the Acme Insurance office again,” Willow added with a laugh. “I can’t wait to kiss that place good-bye. Let’s hope your cousin really likes the scarves.”
“She will,” Pam assured her. “If there’s one good thing about Reva, it’s her taste.”
Five minutes later, the girls pulled to a stop in the curved drive in front of the Dalby mansion. Chatting excitedly about everything they’d do with the money their scarves would bring in, they carried the shopping bags to the front door and pushed the bell.
Pam smoothed a strand of hair back, wishing she’d taken the time to brush it out. Being at Reva’s house always made her feel slightly grubby.
Stop thinking like that, she told herself. Reva is no better than you are. She just has more money.