Catherine took another sip of her coffee and asked, dreading the response, “Wh …what was the woman’s name?”
“La … Lara Ah! Lana Lang! Just a moment, there might be a picture in my bag.”
While Arthur went into his office, Catherine strived not to squirm in her chair. This bit of information that had fallen into her lap was bad, very bad indeed.
“Yes, Anna took this group picture; Daae had copies made for all the guests as a gift commemorating the evening.”
Catherine studied the photo, her green eyes gleamed catlike when she spotted a very chic Lana among the elegantly turned out guests. Gone was the Midwestern small town girl. Now she had transformed into a sophisticated woman. But the American city dweller had departed as well; she wore a blue gown and her blonde hair was pinned into a very pleasing-to-the-eye, sleek chignon – very European. Clark’s so-called girlfriend smiled prettily at Daae, but that was not what caught her attention; the two were holding hands like lovers.
<Oh no! Should I tell Clark?> She thought in a panic.
Seeing the bitter expression on Catherine’s face her companion asked,
“Do you know the young lady?”
“Yes,” Catherine responded, her tone corrosive. “But she is no lady.”
