Read Online The Chameleon by Sugar Rautbord - Free Book Online Page A

friends and their collective child born in the store eleven years ago.
    “Wren says Mrs. Harrison looked quite understated — plain almost—but her voice, it just reeked money.” Claire loved rehearsing the story of Mrs. Harrison.
    “You can always tell by the voice. Money and breeding just tumble out of their mouths.” Slim pursed her lips as if she were going to pull out a cherry pit.
    “Thank goodness we're having Christmas.” Violet sighed happily.
    Field's had rewarded Wren by reinstating her permanent position at the store and giving her a bonus and the best table in the house for their Christmas supper. A triumphant Wren had told the others to gussy up and meet her there but to start without her as she had a lot of last-minute shopping to do. When she reached the table, the small-boned lady with the puffed-up chest dropped her heavy load of presents and wiped the perspiration beads from her temples.
    “Oh, Auntie Wren. We thought you'd never get here! Hooray for you, darling Auntie Wren.” Claire threw her arms around Wren's birdlike neck and kissed her rosy cheeks.
    “Sit down, Wren. You deserve it.” Violet pulled out her I chair, letting her have the one with arms. “You've truly saved the day. You did a smashing job. And just in time.”
    Wren beamed. It felt so good to be helpful and even better to be necessary.
    Tomorrow morning the ladies would open their presents following a lazy breakfast of Wren's special
apfelp-fannkuchen
—apple pancakes laced with a touch of calvados to bring out the fruity taste and topped by Violet's homemade plum jam and fresh peach preserves. Wren, however, had insisted on “bending” the ritual this year so that her gifts to the others would be opened in Field's dining room.
    She shooed away a white-gloved waiter who appeared with the giant tasseled menu, eager to press directly ahead with her bags of boxes. She plucked a glossy green-and-red-coated box off the top and pushed it across the table. “Violet, you're first.” Wren tilted her face, looking girlishly expectant. It was such a thrill for her to be able actually to give something other than a hug and advice.
    Violet was thrilled with her gift of a delicate wristwatch. She hadn't had one since Wren had accidentally sat on hers over a year ago. She held it up for the others to admire.
    “You were such a game girl when I smashed yours.” Wren blushed and blinked her tears away. The difficulties of the past year had stimulated her tear ducts so that her handkerchief was working overtime.
    “You're next, Auntie Slim. Go on.”
    Claire's soft curls fell over her porcelain-fine china skin as nearby diners turned to stare at the three happily chirping ladies and the pretty child taking such pleasure in their Christmas. Their happiness was contagious as it spread around the room.
    “Oh, what beautiful leather.” Slim looked puzzled as she ran a polished red finger over a long, narrow wallet. She'd never had much cash to carry around with her and wondered about the practicality of a fancy holder for her decidedly loose change.
    “It's a passport case,” Wren explained.
    “Is there a ticket to Paris inside?” asked Claire, leaning over the table for a look.
    “Claire!” Violet raised a feathery eyebrow.
    “Heavens no, dear!” Wren laughed. “I'm only newly reemployed, not Daddy Warbucks. But there
is
something that goes along with it.” Wren smiled puckishly as she handed Slim another box. “It's a sort of theme present. Paris, Paris.”
    Slim loved her second gift, the French perfume Paris Nights, and lightly touched the stopper behind both of her ears as well as Claire's. The wide childish eyes were fixed on the perfume's packaging of a man and woman in silhouetted embrace. It made her reflect that the only thing missing from the table and their lives was a man with a good steady job.
    This long year had in fact taught Claire that good times and good moods came with financial security. The sting of her