She was wearing a tailored grey sheath dress that looked like it cost more than my monthly rent. She immediately began twirling a lock of her blonde hair around her finger, her eyes scanning my loose cotton dress.
“Oh, Cassidy,” she said, her voice high and girlish. “Is that the same dress you wore to the office picnic last year?”
“It is comfortable,” I said.
“Of course,” she said, stepping closer so I could smell her expensive perfume. “I suppose when you are expecting, you have to sacrifice style for utility, especially on a budget. But really, a woman in your position should try to maintain some standards when visiting the estate.”
