‘Wait, did you say “golf”?’ Angie’s face at the breakfast table was a perfect mix of confusion and amusement. ‘Mhmm,’ Bette replied, as lightly as she could. ‘Golf ?’ Angie now wrinkled her nose. ‘Like with the visors and the plaid pants and the sweaters with all the triangles and—’ ‘Argyle,’ Bette said evenly. ‘Those