At seven, she should be ready.
At seven, he went down to the basement. His heart should have been hammering and his mind expectant, but he was just another guy going down to the basement.
The pumps had stopped, the agitator, the instiller. He felt the mold; it was cool to the touch. He lifted the lid, his mind on Vera for some reason.
A beauty. The lid was fully back and his mate sat up, smiled and said, "Hello, Joe."
"Hello, Alice. Everything all right?"
"Fine."
Her hair was a silver blonde, her features a blend of the patrician and the classical. Her figure was neither too slim nor too stout, too flat nor too rounded. Nowhere was there any sag.