The Hounds and the Fury by Rita Mae Brown Page A

you could do anything you set your mind to because you’re so intelligent.” Sister meant that. She turned to make her exit so these two could discover one another but was nearly run over by Iffy, who hit her brakes.
    Sister was pinned between Iffy on one side, Jason and Freddie on the other.
    “Happy New Year.” Iffy appeared festive, although resentment bubbled beneath the surface.
    “Happy New Year,” the others replied.
    “Freddie, did you know that Jason is my doctor?”
    “I did.”
    “He saved my life. If you ever feel a lump anywhere, go to him.” She stared at Freddie’s bosom.
    “I’ll bear your advice in mind, although I hope I never need it.”
    Jason put his hand on Iffy’s shoulder. “I’ve never seen you so lit up.”
    “How do you mean that?” Iffy sounded a little testy.
    “The lights.” He pointed to her wheelchair. “If you all will excuse me, I’m going to find Gray.”
    “He’s with Garvey.” Iffy’s lower lip jutted out. “And I’m mad at both of them.”
    “Don’t stay mad long, Iffy; it’s New Year’s Eve. And I need you to back up.”
    “Oh.” Iffy turned her head, beeped her horn, and backed up a tad as Binky and Milly DuCharme moved out of the way.
    “Happy New Year,” Sister greeted husband and wife.
    Binky, golden hair laced with gray, wrapped his arm around her waist. “Here’s to the two-faced god, Janus. He looks to the past; he looks to the future.” With that he gulped his champagne.
    Milly, a less enthusiastic drinker, clicked glasses with her husband and Sister. “You look divine in that color.”
    Sister, in royal blue, laughed. “Thank you, but I’m not divine, or I guess I’d be like Janus.”
    Leaning very close, Milly whispered, “I don’t want to see the future.”
    “Me neither,” Sister agreed.
    “What’d you say, Honeybun?” Binky hadn’t caught the whispered conversation amidst all the noise.
    “That it’s best for us not to know what tomorrow brings,” Milly chirped.
    “We know to not count our chickens before they’ve hatched.” He laughed, then stopped. “One thing is consistent: Alfred.”
    “Sometimes old wounds are lovingly tended.” Milly had lived with the situation since the middle seventies and felt justified in speaking her mind.
    Sister, not wishing to criticize either brother, kissed both Binky and Milly on the cheek. “Whatever the year brings, I hope we stay healthy and thankful for our friends.” As she sidled through the crowd she thought to herself that the statute of limitations on youthful traumas had run out.
    When she reached Gray and Garvey she noticed Iffy doing her best to butt into everything Jason and Freddie had to say to one another.
    Garvey noticed, too. “I think she’s like a lot of women. She fell in love with her doctor.”
    “Perhaps,” said Sister. Then she added, “Iffy’s motto is, ‘If I have made just one life miserable, I have not lived in vain.’”
    Gray and Garvey laughed, for the sting of truth was in it.
    “I’ll get my share.” Gray smiled.
    “Hey, take mine, too. I’ve been on the short end of her stick for the last week.”
    “Hopefully Iffy will bow to the inevitable. She’ll have her nose out of joint for a while about the audit, but it takes too much energy to stay angry,” Sister sighed. “She needs a positive outlet.”
    “I thought Alfred was an outlet. Course he’s not here tonight, since Binky is.” Garvey looked over the room. Gray succinctly summed it up. “Iffy and Alfred are so used to being unhappy they don’t want to upset the status quo. They’re perfect for each other.”
    Sister held up her champagne flute. The men touched theirs to hers, and the crystal chimed, a high, clear note. “Here’s to a New Year filled with new ways and old ways. Over solid bedrock the earth keeps shifting.” She knew the Blue Ridge bedrock was granite more than one billion years old. However, no need for her to be pedantic.
    “Hear, hear,” the men