"You're kidding! Who?"

"Tony Marsden, Jack Cantheas, and Letty Bing."

"Letty? She'll sue!"

"I sincerely hope so."

"I thought he wasn't due here for another three weeks."

"Surprise, surprise. I'll probably be fired next."

"Oh, come on. You're doing a great job."

"Yeah, right. That's why claims posted six hundred thousand in losses."

"That was Andy Motycka's fault, not yours."

"Oh, who cares? I'm getting married. I can do something else. I never liked the job that much anyway. How's goes the shopping so far?"

"The shopping?" I said blankly. I was still trying to cope with the disaster at CF.

"For the wedding. A dress."

"Oooh. For the wedding. I've got a dress."

"Bullshit. You only own one dress and it's black. You're the maid of honor, not a pallbearer." Vera and her beloved were getting married in eight days, on Halloween. Everyone had given her infinite grief over her choice of dates, but Vera was adamant, claiming her natural cynicism was at war with sentiment. She'd never thought to marry. She'd been dating (she said) since she was twelve years old and had gone through countless men. Despite the fact that she was absolutely nuts about her fiancee, she was determined to turn tradition on its ear. I thought a black dress would be perfect for Halloween nuptials. Once the reception was over we could go trick-or-treating together and maybe pool the take. I wanted dibs on the Hershey's Kisses and Tootsie Rolls.

"Besides, you've had that damn dress for five years," she went on.

"Six."

"And last time you wore it you said it still smelled like a swamp."

"I washed it!"

"Kinsey, you cannot wear a six-year-old smelly black dress in my wedding. You swore you'd get a new one."

"I will."

She gave me a flat look, filled with skepticism. "Where will you go to shop? Not K Mart."