The Look

"I'm not sure I will tell her," Madeline said to Rebecca, who had finally stopped puttering around the kitchen and was lounging on the corner of the counter, "She would just say she wasn't ready. It has been too soon. You know how she is."

Rebecca made a sound that showed she was listening and thumbed through a pile of magazines that Madeline kept near by, "Maybe so. But I bet she would be furious when she found out Mr. Right came from a dating service." Her hands settled upon a travel magazine, one with a cover that showed a contrasting whiteness of sand to the blue, blue, blue of the perfect sky. Air brush, Madeline thought when she had first found the magazine looming in her mailbox. in fact that thought had totally dismissed that particular maganize from her consciousness.

She watched her friend flip through the pages of photographs, skimming text on occasion and she saw the look developing. It was a look that said much but offered little hope for the person at the other end of it. It was the I-have-an-idea-so-here-is-what-we-are-going-to-do look.