"I'm gridding to NYC hatting and—"
"It's not even seven."
"Poll, I'm contritest but you weren't sleeping and—"
"I don't need hats."
"You haven't seen the darling I got in Paris. I gridded over with Sella Kyle and, honestly, there was a shop that—"
She convinced Elka that she was not going hatting. Elka took her toll in coffee and gridded after her Paris hat. Pollony barely admired it and Elka left.
Before she could dial Brendel's breakfast her mother was on the grid, fluffy, fleecy, thrusting a wad of bills at her.
"Just on my way to Mexico, toodle. Punch me some coffee?" Breathless moments later she was gone.
"What took so long?" Brendel demanded when she woke him.
"Momma stopped." She hated him like this, his face creased and puffy from sleep. She had never thought he would get fat.