They settled themselves at the last gate and Jane looked desperately at her watch. Only ten minutes to wait. Unless—-God Forbid! — the plane was late! "So… are you excited about seeing all your old friends from school?" Jane asked.

Avalon thought hard. "I guess so."

Jane was spared any further attempts at chitchat by Crispy's arrival. This amazing woman had managed to snag one of the overgrown go-carts that ferry infirm passengers around. It was piled high with a half dozen pieces of matched luggage that looked like they were made of periwinkle blue suede. Jane had never seen anything like it outside of an expensive catalog display. The cart was driven by a good-looking young man who was smiling as if he'd been given a stupendous tip. "I've twisted my ankle, haven't I, Derek?" Crispy said, grinning.

Then she spotted Avalon and leaped off the cart. "Avalon Delvecchio! Imagine! After all these years!" She enveloped Avalon, limp as a rag doll, in a fierce embrace.

"I'm sorry — I don't—" Avalon mumbled.

"You don't know who I am, do you, dear!" Crispy crowed. She glanced at Jane for confirmation, then back to Avalon. "It's me. Crispy."

"Crispy! It can't be. You're so—" She stopped, appalled at what she'd been about to say.

Crispy said it for her. "Thin, pretty, rich? Isn't it amazing?" She whirled around to let Avalon get a better look, then explained to Jane. "I was the fat, pimpled slob with the nibbled nails and terrible hair.

Isn't it amazing what marrying three or four rich men can do for a girl?"

"You've been married that many times?" Avalon asked.

"Oh, at least. That was just the rich ones. My darling Avalon, I'd have known you anywhere. You look exactly the same. You must have a gallon of formaldehyde for breakfast every day. What's your name now?"