The storm flipped umbrellas inside out and ruined Armani suits.
Oprah's guest wept on Maddie's seldom-used TV.
Agnes handed Maddie the hot, fragrant beverage.
"Thank you, Agnes. How sweet of you."
"Anytime, Miss Hayes."
Magenta sandals joined sensible pumps on the floor and the two women curled into opposite ends of the couch.
"Why am I watching this?" Maddie wondered vaguely. "There's got to be something of quality on . . . something with a respectable agenda."
They sipped their tea.
"Did that memo go out?"
"Yep."
"Fiscal '88 backed up on the Macintosh?"
"Yep."
Rain spattered the window behind them; the office's soft, pink glow embraced them.
"It's kind of comforting," Agnes suggested, "that no matter how weird your problems are, you aren't interesting enough to need Oprah to solve them."
"That's always nice to know."
"After the break: 'I'm Having His Baby – In Another State!' on our Is Our Love too Weird to Last? week."
Maudlin sigh.
"I just found out my cousin was switched at birth had an affair with a long-lost twin, and now they're both pregnant with the same man's baby."
Pause.
"Thank you, Agnes."
Giggles.
end