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Show Bobbie's House of Furs 4g "Bobbie?" she called again, apprehensive about walking out in broad daylight among customers. When she looked out of the curtain again, she saw that Bobbie was writing up a sale. When she glanced down the h a l l , the door seemed to have opened wider, as i f inviting Angela in for acquaintance with the furs. She checked to make sure that Bobbie was s t i l l occupied. One customer was holding up a necklace of red beads against the light while the other sorted through a rack of skirts. Angela was aware of her heels sticking to the linoleum floor as she walked toward the open door. She passed the closet steamer hissing as i t uncreased the recently unpacked clothes, and stopped at the rack of coats, crowded and packed with pelts. She reached out to pet the full-length mahogany mink on the end of the rack. Before she meant to, she had eased the coat from i t s padded hanger and was slipping into i t s arms. She rubbed the soft fur against her cheeks, her neck, even across her bare stomach, and began visualizing herself sleeping, eating, studying, and practicing her violin in this coat. Her ordinary world, where spiritual matters superceded all else, lay fallow in the strands of mink and in the weave of the satin lining. She sniffed into the shawl collar and stroked her face with the silky puff of mink's pelt. "What are you doing, honey?" Bobbie stood at the door with her hands on her hips. "You were busy, so I thought..." Angela pulled her arms out of the coat as fast as she could. "Well, I don't pay you to think, and I didn't tell you to come back |