Brigham Young University
Cindy seemed quiet and withdrawn at lunch on Sunday and also later at church. I couldn't help but notice that Hyrum didn't come by to meet her at church and walk her home this week. On the way home, she was kind of shuffling along looking at her feet rather than being her usual cheery self.
From talking to Amy at church I understood that Cindy's date hadn't gone well, but I didn't have the details. Amy suggested that I come to their room after church to help her cheer Cindy up.
I went back to my room and got changed, and then I went over and knocked on Amy and Cindy's door. Cindy was in her bathrobe with a mud mask on her face and cucumber slices over her eyes. She was reclining in bed with about a million small pillows -- their whole collection -- carefully arranged to prop her up in a comfortable position. Amy was sitting in a chair doing Cindy's nails. They had some Beatles music playing softly in the background.
"C'mon in, Lynn," said Amy as I pushed open the door and then closed it behind me. "We've decided that what Cindy needs to cheer her up is a day at the spa."
"Spa Amy," said Cindy, giving a little smile.
"That's a good idea," I said. "Where'd you get the cucumber?"
"Oh, we bought it at Albertson's this morning," said Amy. "I know we're not supposed to be buying things on Sundays, but Heavenly Father doesn't mind if we sometimes make exceptions for emergencies like this."
"Or so we thought," interjected Cindy.
"Why, what happened?" I asked, sitting down at Cindy's desk.
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