Authors: Unknown Author

Untitled (17 page)

Her hands fluttering, she whimpers, "I don't know what to take."

"Take it all," says grandiose Sophie. "Ya never know what you'll need."

"No," says Ida, stamping her foot, beyond irritated by now. "How many times do I have to tell you? The staterooms are tiny. Not only do we store all our clothing in our rooms, according to the ship's brochure, we also have to keep our suitcases there, too."

"Big deal," says Sophie, fluffing out a long seagreen chiffon evening gown and holding it against Bella for effect.
"We
have no problem, since there're only
two
of us in
our
room." She puts her arm around her roommate, who leans into her lovingly.

Ida grimaces, forming her hands into claws, ready to strangle her, but Evvie holds her back. Sophie will not stop rubbing it in that she had the winning ticket and that the other three of us will have to share a smaller room. At the same time, she is still sore that she was forced to share in paying for all our tickets.

I decide to leave them at it. Each bedroom will play out its own packing drama; now that I've seen one, I've seen enough.

The telephone is ringing when I get my door open. It's Angelina Siciliano calling to ask if I got her check. I say yes and thank her. I wait for her to express some gratitude for what we did for her, but that isn't going to happen.

I ask how things are, and now there is a lilt in her voice. Her sister, Connie, has moved into their house, and "Guess what?" Angelina says. "Elio is taking me on a second honeymoon. All the kids will take care of their aunt while we're gone."

I feel good about what she is telling me, and I congratulate her on this happy turn of events. But with murder still on my mind, no matter how hard I try to get it off, I can't resist this opportunity to ask questions about her late cousin Josephine. "Did she ever mention knowing someone with the initials HL? A friend? Someone who worked for her? Would you think for a moment . . . ?"

"Are you kidding?" Angelina stops me, says sarcastically, "HL? JK? XYZ? How would I know? Once she got rich, she forgot she ever had a
famiglia. Y
ou think she'd invite us to her ritzy parties? Or how about a swim at her fancy country club? Hah! We were like chewing gum under her shoes. She never let us meet anyone she knew. The disgraceful way some people act to other members of their family."

This from the woman who didn't speak to her own sister for fifty years?

The moment I hang up, the phone rings again. This time it's Jack. "Can you meet me right now?" From the anxious tone in his voice, I don't ask questions. He tells me where, and after a brief hair comb and a dab of lipstick, I am out the door.

With great trepidation I walk quickly over to Phase Four. Jack said he'd leave Phase Six and meet me halfway. I don't pay attention to the many scattered palm fronds the wind blew off the trees. Or that I have to hold my sweater close to me, because that wind is blowing hard. I am aware only that something serious is on his mind.

Did Morrie decide not to wait for me and tell Jack what he found out about my husband?

He's already standing next to the prearranged park bench. Before I can even catch my breath, Jack blurts it out. He knows we are leaving on the cruise next Sunday afternoon. And now he informs me he has the use of his friend's house in Key West that very same week.

I can hardly hide my relief. Morrie didn't tell him.

He puts his arms around me. "I know I shouldn't ask you to give up the cruise. But I want you to be with me."

"I'm so sorry," I say.

"The girls would be disappointed," he says softly.

"Yes, they would."

"But it's such a great offer. I don't want to lose it."

"I see . . ." I feel my throat tightening and I can hardly swallow.

We hear someone coming down the path and we sit down demurely next to one another on the bench.

Jack hesitates. "You could tell them something came up and you have to make other plans . . ."

"They'll have a fit."

Jack gets up, paces. "Do you really want to go on that cruise? Truth?"

"No."

He comes back to me and stares into my eyes. "Glad, we're not kids anymore. If you don't do what you really want to do at this stage of your life, when will you?"

"Don't . . . you aren't being fair . . . It's more complicated than that."

"Okay, they'll be mad for a while, but they love you and want you to be happy. They'll understand . . . They'll get over it."

"I don't think they will."

"Now, that's silly."

"Please don't ask me to choose."

"I guess that's what I am doing."

"I won't be able to choose you this time." I bow my head. This is awful. How can I explain how I feel? My back is to the wall and I can't deal with the pressure. I want to beg him to back off. For now.

Jack doesn't move. "Honey, I'm trying to understand, but I can't. What's this really about?"

I see the expression on his face. "It's only a cruise!" he says. "They'll be back in a week. What's the big deal?"

I need to say something. "They won't be able to manage things alone," I blurt. "I'm their designated driver!"

He looks at me as if I've lost my mind. He tries to laugh. "These aren't kids, Glad. These are grown-ups."

"That's what you think," I say weakly. "Please. There'll be other weeks, other places we can go."

"And you'll find another excuse. You've been putting me off for a long time," he says petulantly.

I want to reach out and touch him, but the dis

tance is too far. There is coldness facing me for the first time.

"I guess I'm tired of being reasonable. Either you want me—or you don't."

"Honey, I promise when I get back . . ."

"Do you know how long we've been planning to take a trip? How many times you've found an excuse not to go?"

"Jack, please, next time . . ."

But he's walking away from me. I can't believe it. I want him to come back. This is just a difference of opinion, isn't it? I feel tears welling up. An icy voice inside says, You've lost him. Now you don't have to tell him.

The bench has that same ugly bail bondsman ad I saw the day I met with Morrie. I feel like that mean face is following me everywhere. Like some kind of evil totem.

Gossip

A
re you sure this is the address?" I ask Ida.

"Positive." She looks again at the piece of paper in her hand. "Barbi wrote it down for me."

I pull into the minimall on University Avenue.

Sophie bounces up and down in the seat behind me. "I know where we are. There's Moishe's Deli."

And indeed it is. A place where we've eaten many times. The address we want is two doors away. For a moment we stare at the window. It's totally covered with some kind of pale gray paint, so no one can see through it. I remember the last time we were in this mall, that location was a shoe store.

We get out of the car and move closer. "Look there." Bella points.

In the right-hand corner of the window is a small, printed sign:

GOSSIP by Appointment Only

and a phone number.

"This is where Casey and Barbi work?" Evvie tries in vain to see through the paint. "Weird."

Bella ventures a guess. "Maybe they'll be dressed as gypsies and have a crystal ball."

A few days ago Ida ran into Barbi in the laundry room. They got to talking and Ida mentioned our case. And how frustrated I was, unable to get enough facts. Barbi suggested that she and her cousin might be able to help. And here we are, because after that dismal meeting with Morrie, I can't think of anything else to do.

I put my hand on the doorknob. "I hope we aren't wasting our time."

Bella is happy. "No matter what, it won't be a total nothing. We can always go next door for a nosh."

The door is locked. I see a doorbell and ring it.

Casey opens the door. Barbi is right behind her.

"Welcome," Barbi says.

Sophie gasps. I hope the rest of my troupe can keep from reacting. What I am immediately aware of is the way the cousins are dressed, and what this huge open space behind them looks like.

"We're running a little behind. Would you mind waiting a few minutes?" Casey leads us to a round white table and chairs. "We've set out a
petite
refreshment for you. I hope you like chai and scones with orange marmalade."

We sit down like obedient children. The girls are flummoxed. Even I am in awe.

The cousins leave us and move across this huge, seemingly empty room, where they sit at two computers.

The girls start whispering all at once.

"What's chai?" Bella asks.

"Why is everything white? It looks like an operating room in a hospital." Sophie wastes no time digging into a scone.

"It's only tea." Bella winces as she tries a few tentative sips. "It's spicy and too sweet."

Ida is astounded. "Do you believe those outfits?"

Casey is wearing a man's navy blue pinstriped suit, matching tie, and brown leather oxfords. Barbi is wearing what I see a lot of young girls wearing today: layers of unmatched tops with a long flowery skirt and straw sandals. Whatever happened to the jeans and sundresses? Their backs are to us. They are busily typing.

Bella asks, "Why is she wearing a man's suit?"

Evvie gives me a look. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

I nod and look around the room. Three of the walls have low, attached white shelves. Most of the space is covered with machines. The only furnishings in the entire room are our table and chairs and two black desks with two matching rolling chairs that the women are seated on.

Evvie is glancing in the same direction. "I know those are computers," she says, pointing to the women working. "And that's a fax machine and a copier and a lot of phones. I don't know what the rest of that stuff is. This looks like state-of-the-art high tech."

"Have you ever in your life seen a business office," I say, "with not one single piece of paper anywhere?"

Except for the diplomas hanging on the wall above our table. They inform us that both women graduated with MBAs from USC in California. Both have degrees in law and computer science.

"You girls doing okay?" Casey says to us from across the huge room.

"Just fine," I answer.

So this is the future. All machines. No paper. Everything on computers. No books. I was right to fear technology. It will completely take over our lives, and this sterile environment is what it will look like. God help us.

Barbi and Casey wheel back to us, sliding over on the two black chairs.

I hear Ida stifle a cough as she stares and indicates to me her ring finger. I follow her stare. Barbi and Casey are wearing rings they don't wear around the condo. Wedding rings—identical gold bands with silver edges.

The two "cousins" seem not to notice. Casey takes charge. "What can we do for you? Ida suggested the other day that you might need access to information. That's what we do." She points to the banks of machines. "Whatever you want to know, HAL will tell you."

Evvie claps her hands in delight. "
2001: A
Space Odyssey.
Stanley Kubrick."

The women smile. "Exactly," says Barbi.

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, as the old saw says. I'm here. I might as well jump in and see what they have. "You know I'm trying to investigate some murders."

They nod and listen intently. My girls, of course, can't take their eyes off our hosts.

"I've been to the library and microfiched." All of a sudden I'm talking their language? What a hoot.

"Names?" Casey interrupts me and whizzes back across the white tile floor on her movable chair. She starts hitting the keys of a computer.

I nearly jump, taken aback. I manage to stutter out, "Margaret Sampson, Josephine Martinson, Elizabeth Johnson."

Barbi snaps out at me, "Cities?"

I have to think for a moment. Casey and Barbi are in superspeed mode, but my old gray cells need warming up. "West Palm Beach, Boca Raton . . ."

Evvie helps me out. "Sarasota Springs."

Barbi slides away to another machine. And we see two sets of hands typing and typing and typing. "What do you want to know?"

Now I get up and move closer to the two typing virtuosos. They remind me of a concert I went to in Carnegie Hall once with two amazing pianists dueling one another musically.

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