Margo Vincent slouched on her sofa, trying to decide if she should tackle the mountain of mail that had accumulated before or after she investigated what had taken root in her refrigerator during her last unplanned (and rather prolonged) absence. Concluding that she'd had quite enough stress this last week (thank you very much!) Margo decided that the mail was the lesser of two evils.
What was all this stuff, anyway? Join a record club - no thanks ditto for a video club - when was she ever home long enough to actually watch an entire movie? Oh, this one was good a dating service. She could just see herself making one of those silly videos - "Hi, my name is Margo and I'm a spy." Hmm "arms dealer"? Yeah, that had a real nice ring to it sure to attract guys by the busload. She added that one to the toss pile.
Next came a bank statement, which Margo checked perfunctorily. Electronic transfer in, from a numbered account she knew was Trout's electronic transfers out for her rent, utilities, car payment and insurance thank God for automatic payments, or she'd have been evicted long ago! She'd have to double check them against the actual bills later, so she made sure to keep them all together. Amazing how they always managed to get the bills out on time, but if someone actually owed her money, that got routed by way of the dogsled express through Calcutta.
A bulky, oversized envelope with a German postmark - Margo smiled over that one - it was from Claudia Schneider and from the feel of it, her friend had sent her some fabric swatches. She set that one aside to look at later. A letter from her brother was also added to the keep pile she'd save the good stuff as her reward for tackling the unknown horrors that awaited her in the kitchen.
Three credit card applications - toss, toss, toss. An invitation to take out a home equity loan - Margo looked around her small apartment, wondering idly how these people managed to get her name. Two different varieties of "You may have the winning number." Pul-leeze. Ten - count 'em - ten different product promotions from a collectibles company that she'd bought one item from four years ago. An ad to take a correspondence course in flower arranging. A gaudy flier for a disco palace, inviting her to come relive the fabulous seventies - "Memo to self: remember to shoot Nick!"
Catalogues. Men's clothing (excuse me?) Women's larger size clothing (??) Yard and garden equipment (nice idea if she had a yard or garden) Christmas cards (in July?) Kid's stuff. Power tools.
Oh, wait here was one that she actually shopped from occasionally. It had all sorts of unusual gift ideas. Idly, she started to flip through the pages. There was a very pretty bracelet Margo brightened surely she'd earned herself a small treat this last time out a vintage World War Two Army recruiting poster Matt would like that for his office maybe for his next birthday.
Then she saw it and had to clap a hand over her mouth to stifle a fit of the giggles. It was perfect - just perfect - she'd have to order one for herself and maybe one for Matt's bartender, too Debbie would love it. The throw pillow had a tapestry finish embroidered with an odd assortment of frogs, in a variety of costumes and poses. The motto in the center read 'Just how many of these do I have to kiss, anyway?'
The doorbell rang, and Margo tried to compose herself as she got up and crossed to the door, pausing only to dump all the junk mail in a wastebasket. Checking the peephole, she saw a pizza box? Abruptly, the box was yanked away, and she recognized the grinning faces of her own two princes and one frog. Smiling, Margo opened the door.
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