“So, Isadora!” said Julia. “Brigid’s finally landed herself a man, eh? You must be very proud.”
“What do you mean, ‘finally’?” said Isadora. “Brigid’s landing herself men all the time. In fact, she’s left an impressive array of male corpses strewn across the landscape.”
“Um,” said Julia, apparently trying to figure out which direction to go next. “Well,” she finally said, “Greg seems very nice.”
“Oh yes,” said Isadora, “quite the lovable airhead. And very good at shifting furniture, which is the important thing of course.”
“Um,” said Julia again.
“There’s something about him that brings out the maternal instinct. I tell him to call me his Auntie Isadora. He doesn’t do it, of course; he insists on calling me ‘Mrs. Franks’ all the time, which makes me feel like a mascot for a hot dog stand. But I should have thought of that before marrying Brigid’s father, shouldn’t I?”
“Er, yes, no doubt,” said Julia. “Oh, look! There’s Aunt Edna! I really must ask her something. Pardon me, Isadora!”
Isadora smiled at her retreating form. They could make her come to these damn things, but they couldn’t stop her from having a good time.