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afraid of being shot at any minute, and now our biggest problem is buying me a dress.”
    “A sign of good mental health—not to worry. We’re recovering from an unspeakable experience and we need a distraction. Several of them, in fact. We’ll get you shoes, and a bag, and some makeup too.”
    They remembered Linda at the Miramar Boutique. Salesladies descended like locusts as they entered the shop, and Linda started issuing orders in staccato Spanish before Karen could open her mouth. Karen was whisked off to a mirrored booth while Linda went through the racks like a tornado, flinging silks and wool crepes and polished cottons about as the boutique employees tried to keep up with her. A tiny clerk named Maria arrived at the drawn curtain outside Karen’s cubicle with an armful of garments and said in hesitant English, “Your friend say to try these, senorita. ”
    Karen looked at the price tags, which were marked in bolivares, pounds, and dollars, and almost fainted. The news was bad in all three currencies.
    She cleared her throat. “Maria,” she said calmly, “would you ask my friend to come and speak to me, please?”
    “Certainly, senorita .” Seconds later Linda’s head poked through the curtain.
    “What is it?” she said impatiently. “I’m busy.”
    “Linda, do you know how much these clothes cost?”
    “Of course, silly, I just bought mine here a few hours ago.”
    “Linda, these prices are outrageous. This blouse, for example, is two hundred dollars, or fifteen hundred bolivares, whichever makes the more staggering impression.”
    “And a very good value, too; that’s fine quality silk.”
    “Linda, I can’t charge this stuff to your embassy. It’s robbery!”
    Linda sniffed. “Don’t be absurd, the government can afford it. Do you know the kind of taxes we pay at home?”
    “That’s no excuse for taking such obscene advantage.”
    Linda fixed her with a frosty “we of the upper classes don’t discuss money” stare. “Do you want to look smashing, or not?” she asked.
    “Yes, but...”
    Linda held up a manicured hand. “But me no buts. You have two and one half hours left; now get cracking.”
    She disappeared and Karen sighed, thinking that Linda’s long history of nannies and lawn parties and public schools had left an indelible impression. Growing up in New Jersey just didn’t compare. Karen would always worry about the cost of everything while Linda considered it déclassé to even refer to it.
    “Here you go,” Linda announced, shoving a black silk jersey dress through the curtained partition that separated them. “Just the thing. I’d like to catch his expression when he sees you in that. What size shoe do you wear?”
    “Six and a half, American.”
    “God knows what that means here; you’ll just have to try them on,” Linda muttered and hurried off again.
    The silk jersey dress was stunning. It clung to Karen’s curves in all the right places, with an overskirt that flared at the hips and a deep scooped neckline that showed off her light summer tan. One glance and Karen knew that she had to have it.
    She walked out of the cubicle and turned in front of the three way mirror on the floor. The salespeople murmured appreciatively.
    “What did I tell you?” Linda said triumphantly behind her. “Now for the shoes. Put these on.”
    Linda handed her a pair of black peau de soie sandals with three inch heels.
    “I don’t know,” Karen said doubtfully, looking at them.
    Linda sighed dramatically. “What is the matter with you?” she said irritably. “You can’t be worried about dwarfing him; the man is the size of a great sequoia. If I had your legs I’d go jogging in shoes like those.”
    “I doubt it,” Karen said dryly. “I just think they’re impractical.”
    “Of course they’re impractical—that’s the whole idea.” She put her hands on Karen’s shoulders and turned her around. “Look,” she said. “When was the last time you had a dinner