“You know how much your mother likes us to come to dinner with her and her friends.”
“Didn’t we . . .?
“We didn’t,” Rona said. “At least not this year. Last winter once or twice but . . .”
“We should,” I quickly agreed, knowing we would wind up there for dinner no matter what excuses I might make. Among other things I hate eating at 5:00. And then there is . . .
More about my resistance I am reluctant to reveal. So we made arrangements to join my mother and the “girls” last week.