Brush off

We were little girls together. Once every few months, now that we're older, we meet somewhere mutually convenient with our smiles wide and tight. We brush cheeks and: "You look fantastic." "Thanks." "I love that shirt. God - and that belt. Where...?" "Oh, it's really old. Look. I've got an appointment at two, so we'd better hurry." She passes me the menu. "Sorry." We arrange these meetings, usually lunch but sometimes dinner, during monthly phone calls. I call her one month and she calls me the next. We take our turns very carefully so that neither one of us appears more or less eager than the other. Last month I rang her. Her husband Justin answered the phone.