Friendly Opposition

Megan walked steadily down the fancy draped sidewalk, the sense of expensive and too much nauseating to her, but she pressed on not wishing to upset Ursela. That might be good she mused spotting the double bay doors to the fanciest French restaurant this side of Bingham.
‘Mar ‘lies’ read the large placard over the door. She forgot whatever it meant, but knew a hurt would be placed on her meager resources quavering deep down in the wallet cowering in her purse.
“Well,” she muttered, striding through the entrance way, “can’t keep the queen waiting now, can we?”
The place was moderately packed normal for a typical luncheon fare. Megan’s eyes roved around at the patrons sitting at the tables draped with fine white linen coverings, assortments of the best the restaurant had to offer in food and drinks set out plates flushed with lobster, spinach quiche, Mediterranean meals and other exotic items.
Her eyes carried over to a table set far in the back. There, sipping calmly on a glass filled with some sort of sparkling mineral water she surmised, sat her long-time friend, the petite and affluent Ursela Jean Merriweather. Dressed modestly against the standards of the restaurant, her light blue dress fit right on her small frame, well styled brunette hair done up in a pinafore hair style popular with the upper elite, contrasting her own black A-cut dress and low heels common to many of the women in town.
Slight twitches tugged at the sides of her lips, then a sigh waltzing merrily over to the table.
“DaH-ling!” said Megan in a high tone.
Ursela looked up and smiled in that same innocent face Megan was familiar with. “Megan,” came her reply as Megan drew back the chair across from her.
Immediately, a waiter hurried over casting glances at Ursela as if he was searching for any signs of displeasure.
“Ugh,” sounded Megan, “can the help here not be even a bit more prompt or what?”
“Now, now, Meg,” replied Ursela, “they are a bit busy at this time of the day.”
Megan huffed, doffing the dark pair of designer sunglasses from her face. She could not help but notice fine pair of silk gloves lying carefully on the table over Ursela’s beige purse.
“Oh, out spending more of Charles’s ill-gotten hush money, are we?” she said.
Ursela laughed. “No, Charles gave me those as a present for being so patient with him while he was out promoting our newest product store up town.”
“Another store?” replied Megan, “My goodness, can there be not anything limiting the Merriweather empire from expanding?”
Ursela shrugged, “Progress is progress.”
The stopped looking at each other then laughed. The slight cough from the still waiting waiter returned them back to the purpose of their visit.
“You poor dear,” said Megan eyeing him, a brow arched high, “Can’t allow you get bored standing there now, can we?”
Megan picked up the small menu on the table and looked it over a moment. “Have you anything to suggest, Ursela-dear?”
Ursela gazed at the menu in her hand, lips twisted to one side as she did. “The Perigon Beef Cutlets looks good,” she finally said.
“Ooo, look at you,” said Megan, “stooping too lower levels whilst there is a fine assortment of high-quality fare before you! I’m rather shocked.”
“Oh, stop it,” snipped Ursela with a playful swat at her.
Megan giggled but dreaded the digits marking the cost of the meals. A bit over the budget, she swore she felt her wallet give another shudder that shook the table.
“I’ll take the Shrimp Scampi, extra Breadsticks, and uh, oh yes bring us a bottle of Ferrari Fume Blanc.”
Ursela smirked. “Blanc?” she said eyeing Megan.
“Why yes! We really do not want to lower all the high standards of the Merriweather Clan now do we?”
“You are such a kidder,” said Ursela shaking her head, “Blanc with Beef. Charles would have you shot if he were here.”
“Maybe a wet noodle flogging, but shot? He’d be hard pressed to find another oh so devoted friend like me in this town for you.”
The waiter chuckled, suppressing his laughs with a hand. Megan smirked.
“Toodles,” she said fingers rapidly waving him away.