"He'll be back. He just needs to blow off steam." Cynthia sat back on the deep padded leather of the cream colored couch in the expansive living room of her mansion. Marie envied her poise. Nothing fazed her, not even the news of Richard's departure. With a smirk she thought Cynthia would probably like it just fine if Bill took off.

Up until then, Marie had pitied the distant relationship between her two new friends, but now it seemed quite practical. "I just don't get it. We've been poor all our lives." She stammered to a halt. Guilt poured through her and made her feel ill. "Not poor, poor, but, you know, just making it." With a glance Marie realized that Cynthia didn't know at all and was completely perplexed by the declaration. She couldn't relate at all. Never had. Probably never would. How could she understand how she, or Richard for that matter felt about what was going on?

A flood of realization swept through Marie as she relaxed in the beautiful surroundings. She needed Ellen.

More than ever she needed someone to listen who knew exactly what life had been like before all the money had entered the picture. "I just want nice things, is that a crime?" She knew that would hit a recognizable chord with her pity partner. It did. Marie felt comforted by the look of understanding that replaced the mystified look earlier.