Dixie Browning - Two Hearts, Slightly Used

Her father, had he still been alive, would have appreciated Kenneth, she thought with bitter amusement. She hadn’t known until it was far too late how much her late husband had in common with the parasitic plants Dr. Smith had spent the last years of his life studying.

“Oh, this is depressing!” she muttered. Why in the world was she wasting time wallowing in past misery?

Refocusing her mind on her current misery, Frances swallowed a few gulps of the lukewarm cocoa and forced down a slice of toast. Her stomach threatened rebellion. Change of water, she told herself. Or too much greasy junk food on the trip down. There were times when she devoutly wished she didn’t know beans about food. There came a time in every woman’s life when she desperately needed to indulge herself in something utterly wicked, even if it was no more than an overdose of saturated fat, refined sugar, bleached flour and a bushel basketful of assorted chemicals.

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