I had two rings on each hand, a thin gold watch, and a gold bracelet. I touched up my lipstick, added some more perfume, and when I was ready, I too... one last check in the mirror before I stepped out of my room. Dad was standing out on the patio, his back to me when I walked up to him. "Daddy?" I had not called him that since I was about six, but it somehow seemed appropriate now. He turned to face me, and once again his eyes roamed over me. "You look radiant Joyce. You're simply. But that is malarkey that fool Bram Stoker made up. Totally unreal."He turned his face slightly, so their eyes met. "I mean, can you imagine me suggesting things to you? What would I say? 'Friday, scratch your nose'. " He chuckled at the concept, as the woman on his lap scratched her nose, then looked at him in surprise. "Or maybe I would say, 'Friday, trace the cleavage of your dress?' Fah!"He watched out of the corner of his eye as she lightly ran her finger from her left shoulder, down along. More

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