“He got her out of her jacket. In less than ten seconds." Frankie shook his head. "God help her if he tries to get her out of something else.""Oh,no.He wouldn't...You wouldn't let him...""For the record, I was kidding. But try to give them both just a little credit, if you would,please.”

“I Can't Make You Love Me.' Bonnie Raitt.""Oh,Fiorella."I glared at him a little as I climbed down. "Was that delightful list for your benefit or mine?"Frankie grabbed my hand and, when I didn't pull away fast enough, tugged me onto his lap,where he wrapped his arms so tightly around me that I couldn't escape. Sometimes his strength still surprises me.He tickled my cheek with his nose. "Don't hate me just because I'm hateful.""I never do."Here's the thing. Frankie's taken a lot of hits in his life. He never stays down for long."Excuse me!" The mannequin's evil twin was glaring down at us fro her sky-high bootie-heeled heights. Her NM badge told us her name was Victoria. "You cannot do that here!" she snapped."Do what?" Frankie returned, matching lockjaw snooty for lockjaw snooty.She opened and closed her mouth, then hissed, "Canoodle!"I felt Frankie's hiccup of amusement. "Were we canoodling, snookums?" he asked me. "I rather thought we were about to copulate like bunnies."I couldn't help it; I laughed out loud. Victoria's mouth thinned into a pale line. The whole thing might have ended with our being escorted out the store's hallowed doors by security. Sadie, as she so often did, momentarily saved us from ourselves.She stomped out of the dressing room and planted herself in front of us. Ignoring the angry salesgirl completely, she muttered, "I look like a carved pumpkin!"Frankie took in the skirt, layered shirts, and jacket. "You do not, but I might have been having an overly Michael Kors moment. This will not do for a date.Take it off." He nudged me, then added, "Right here.Every last stitch of it."As soon as Sadie was back in her own clothing and coat-which got an unwilling frown of respect from Victoria; apparently even Neiman Maruc doesn't carry that line-we moved on. Sadie did better in Frankie's second choice-a lip-printed sweater dress from Betsey Johnson,but wouldn't buy it."We're just going to a movie!" she protested. "Besides,Jared's not...not..." She gestured down at her lippy hips. "He's practical and sensible and quiet.""Oh,my God!" Frankie slapped both palms to the side of his face,and turned to me. "Sadie has a date with a Prius!"He had to invoke the sanctity of Truth or Dare before he could even get her into Urban Outfitters. "Sometimes I love you less than other times," she grumbled as he filled her arms with his last choices."No,you don't," he said cheerfully, and sent her off to change.”

“It is time,my darling.""Oh,Frankie,no-""You chose dare," he reminded her."I did," she agreed sadly, stepping up. "You're right."It hadn't been entirely fair of him, starting the game in the middle of Neiman Marcus. The King of Prussia Mall, a zillion acres of retail-and-food-in-a-box, is many people's idea of perfect therapy. Me? If given the choice, I might opt for swimming with sharks instead. But today was about Frankie."So," he told her, "I pick out three outfits,head to toe. You put them on.""Fine." Sadie pulled her jacket closer around her.This one was a muddy pruple, and had a third sleeve stitched tot he back. "But if you pick anything like that"- she pointed to a tiny tartan dress that seemed to be missing its entire back- "I will cry.""Have faith," he replied with a slightly twisted smile, and dragged her toward women's sportswear. "What our sport is," he said apropos of very little save the sign on the wall, "I have no idea."Ten minutes later, Sadie was heading into the dressing room with an armful of autumn color and a look like she was on her way off a cliff.”

“My sister taught me the best trick. When the salesclerk isn't looking, you make Sharpie marks on the front of all the others so no one else will buy them. I mean, how embarrassing would it be to have someone else show up at the dance wearing the same dress! This way, I know I'll be the only one.""God,I wouldn't have the guts.What if you got caught!"The Sharpie-wielding Phillite shrugged. "I would put them all on my dad's card. But then I wouldn't be able to buy the Manolos..."She and her impressed friends headed down the hall.Frankie banged his locker closed with unnecessary force. "Mind-boggling," he muttered. "All that money, and they can't buy a clue.”

“They came in to look. I watched them. Most people go through museums like they do Macy's: eyes sweeping the display, stopping only if something really grabs their attention. These two looked at everything. They both clearly liked the bicycle picture. Yup, Dutch, I decided.He was a few steps ahead when he got to my favorite painting there. Diana and the Moon. It was-surprise surprise-of Diana, framed by a big open window, the moon dominating the sky outside. She was perched on the windowsill, dressed in a gauzy wrap that could have been nightclothes or a nod to her goddess namesake. She looked beautiful, of course, and happy, but if you looked for more than a second, you could see that her smile had a teasing curve to it and one of her hands was actually wrapped around the outside frame. I thought she looked like she might swing her legs over the sill and jump, turning into a moth or owl or breath of wind even before she was completely out of the room. I thought she looked, too, like she was daring the viewer to come along. Or at least to try.The Dutch guy didn't say anything. He just reached out a hand. His girlfriend stepped in, folding herself into the circle of his outsretched arm. They stood like that, in front of the painting, for a full minute. Then he sneezed.She reached into her pocket and pulled out a tissue.He took in and, without letting go of her, did a surprisingly graceful one-handed blow. Then he crumpled the tissue and looked around for a trash can. There wasn't one in sight. She held out her free hand; he passed over the tissue, and she stuck it right back into her pocket. I wanted to be grossed out. Instead, I had the surprising thought that I really really wanted someone who would do that: put my used Kleenex in his pocket. It seemed like a declaration of something pretty big.Finally,they finished their examination of Diana and moved on.There wasn't much else, just the arrogant Willings and the overblown sunrise. They came over to examine the bronzes.She saw my book. "Excuse me. You know this artist?"Intimately just didn't seem as true anymore. "Pretty well," I answered."He is famous here?""Not very.""I like him." she said thoughtfully. "He has...oh, the word...personism?""Personality?" I offered."Yes!" she said, delighted. "Personality." She reached behind her without looking. Her boyfriend immediately twined his fingers with hers. They left, unfolding the map again as they went, she chattering cheerfully. I think she was telling him he had personality. They might as well have had exhibit information plaques on their backs: "COUPLE." CONTEMPORARY DUTCH. COURTESY OF THE ESTATE OF LOVE, FOR THE VIEWING PLEASURE (OR NOT) OF ANYONE AND EVERYONE.”

“Leo!Scusi, Nonna." But he still managed to get a good, quiet curse or two out as he backed his way gingerly through the swinging door. "Here.I got it." Tina took the beer and glass from me. "Ya know them?"I nodded."She looks like butter wouldn't melt.But her kid..." She pursed brilliantly pink lips. "All that and a bag of baked tofu chips?"I had to smile a little at the image. "No.He's not...He doesn't act like..." I wasn't entirely sure why I was defending him.He hadn't exactly been the Prince Charming of Dinner Orders. Come to think of it, I couldn't completely vouch for Alex Bainbridge being Prince Charming of Anything. Except my own little Villink fantasy. "Maybe.""Cute,though.""Yeah.""Yeah?" I have no idea what is was Tina saw in my face. Something. "Aw, sweetie." She sighed. "Want me to shake up Daddy's beer a little?""No," I answered. "but thanks for the offer.”

“Frankie turned back and forth in front of the three-way mirror. "I have absolutely no ass whatsoever."A few feet away,a woman whose designer velour fit her like a sausage casing, gave an amused snort. "Honey," she said over a display of two-hundred-dollar T-shirts. "I have been waiting forty years to say those words."Frankie padded toward her in his socks and Alexander McQuenn pants.He thrust his hands into the pockets, pulling the fabric tighter, and presented her with his outthrust bottom. "Honestly. This is what you want?"She lasted about five seconds before grinning-and sighing at the same time. "No,I guess not."He turned around, leaned in, and informed her conspiratorially, "There is not a T-shirt on earth worth that much."She looked down at the plain blue cotton in her hands. "You are so right." She put it back. "And with that face, sweetie, you could have the ass of a rhino and no one would notice.I'm just saying.""What does she know?" he muttered when she'd gone. "What good has this face done me?"Apparently, Connor hadn't been quite as available as he'd let on. Apparently, along with dancing, juggling was one of his talents."You couldn't have known," Sadie said gently. "Oh,yes,I could.I mean, he's a guy,isn't he?"There's not much you can say to a boy when he makes a statement like that. So we just scooted in until we were up against Frankie's thin shoulders, bookending him.”