Untitled (4 page)
Authors: Unknown Author
We're going to have to get a real office soon, or I'll go wacko.
Finally all the lunch contributions are on the dining room table. Since everyone brought over what they had left in their refrigerators, we are having smorgasbord.
Evvie passes me her chopped liver. "I say take the case. It was an empty threat."
Sophie serves her cottage cheese and vegetable salad. "I say it was a full threat. We catch him doing it, he's a yunich."
Evvie corrects her. "That's eunuch."
Sophie makes a downward-slashing gesture. "Yeah. Bye-bye, balls."
Bella serves her now hard-boiled eggs. "She looks like she goes to church a lot, so she has to forgive him."
Ida sneers into her strawberry Jell-O mold. "Yeah, sure, first she'll do a couple of Hail Marys, following which she'll put a knife in his heart. Then she'll cut off his
schmuck.
"
schmuck.
"
"Right," Bella chimes in. "And then Jesus will forgive her for icing him."
I must pause to mention that ever since we started the business, the only things the girls read or watch on TV are mysteries, so they've picked up a lot of jargon.
I contribute my onion bagels and cream cheese. "I think we owe it to the husband to confront him if we catch him in the act. It might save his life."
Bella giggles. "Or at least his
coglioni.
"
coglioni.
"
I suggest we get down to our business meeting. Sophie immediately waves her hand wildly in the air. "I thought of a name for us."
Ida moans. "We already agreed on a name. And not one word about T-shirts."
Sophie ignores her. "What about 'Glad's Girls'?"
"Forget it," says Evvie.
Ida moans. "Why does she always have to name everything?"
Sophie folds her arms across her chest. " 'Cause I always named things ever since I was a little girl. I named all my dollies and my turtles and my toys and my socks and my sneakers. . . . There was Susie and Selma and Shirley and Sidonia, my dollies. And Tony and Tootsie, my turtles, and—"
Ida presses her hand across Sophie's mouth. "Stop already."
Sophie defiantly burbles through Ida's hand. "And goo-goo . . ."
"Enough!" I say. Sometimes I feel like a traffic cop. Or a kindergarten teacher.
Bella raises her hand. "Since I'm on the advertising committee, I wish to make a suggestion. We put Gladdy's picture on bus stop benches. She's prettier than those ugly old bail bondsmen."
"But with what name?" Sophie insists. "I don't like the one we have."
"What's wrong with 'Gladdy Gold and Associates Detective Agency'?" I say, peeved.
Sophie yawns melodramatically. "Borrring . . ."
Evvie, secretary and treasurer, pipes up. "And where are we supposed to get that kind of money for billboards?"
"Also," says Bella, reading from her notes—she has obviously come prepared for this meeting—"I think we need to be armed and dangerous. We need a salt shaker and a jerk."
We look at her, dumbfounded.
Ida glares icily at her. "Don't you mean pepper spray?"
"Didn't I say that? I thought I said that. I know I said that."
"And what the heck is a jerk?" Evvie asks.
"You know," Bella says, gesturing, "that funnylooking thing that looks like a rock in a black sock. Cops hit guys with 'em all the time. In the movies . . ." she finishes lamely.
Evvie says with disgust, "I think she means a sap."
"Knock, knock," a male voice calls from the screen door.
Bella rushes across the room to unlatch it. "Come on in, Jack, and join the festivities."
Jack Langford enters. My heart goes flippityflop at the sight of him; I can't help it. Who says men in their seventies can't look sexy? He looks delicious to me. The girls, on the other hand, do not melt under his charm. They stiffen and you can feel the icicles forming.
He is holding a cardboard box and five small bunches of posies. He winks at me as he puts the box down on the table and starts handing the flowers out to the girls.
"Bribery will get you nowhere," Ida mutters under her breath. Jack, of course, hears her and smiles.
Fasten your seat belts. Here we go.
7
The Fly in the Ointment
B
ella is all aflutter when Jack comes around.
ella is all aflutter when Jack comes around.
She's the only one of the girls happy to have a man on the premises again. For years she was friends with his lovely wife, Faye, and always saw Jack as a decent husband. She quickly clears a space for him at the table and brings in another place setting. "Sit, Jack. Have a bite," she offers.
Watch the body language. Ida, our resident man-hater, backs out of the dining area and as far into the living room as she can without actually falling out the window. A bitter marriage long ago supposedly made her this sour, but I have a feeling there's more to it than that.
Sophie fidgets and moves around aimlessly. She no longer knows how to behave in front of a man. She knows she's too old to flirt, but how else do you behave with "them"?
Evvie stays close to me, unconsciously, as if protecting me from this threatening outsider in her life. The status quo is in danger. She doesn't want anything to change, and he is Change with a capital C.
I just stay away from the line of fire. Jack is a big boy. He can take care of himself.
"Just a cup of coffee, thanks." He smiles at Bella.
I can read his mind. He wants to come over and hug me, but he knows it will make me uncomfortable, so he shrugs.
"Thank you for the flowers," I say pointedly, glaring at the girls.
There is an immediate chorus of "yeah, thanks" from the rest. Ida's is so low you can't hear it, even though you can see her lips moving. Complaints get high volume; gratitude earns a mumble.
"So, what's new?" Jack asks.
I sit back and wait for the Greek chorus to begin.
Bella is first. "We have a new client. Mrs. Siciliano. From Plantation."
"Yeah," Sophie chimes in. "She wants us to catch her husband sleeping in somebody else's bed."
"Yeah, like Goldilocks." Bella giggles.
"Right," Ida adds with satisfaction, "so she can kill him." She looks at Jack and says, ever so sweetly, "Most men are such liars and cheaters, don't you think?"
"Well, that might be a little strong," he replies, trying to keep a straight face.
Evvie looks directly at me. "We're going on a stakeout tonight, so don't make other plans." That's her idea of being subtle.
Sophie is dancing around the table. "So, what's in the box? I can't stand the suspenders," says she who mauls the English language.
"It's for your office." Jack opens the carton as the girls gather around.
"What is it?" Sophie asks.
"An answering machine, so you won't miss any calls."
"Uh-oh, Jackie, you're in big trouble," Bella offers. "Gladdy hates progress."
"Hold it," I say. "It's not the progress. It's the loss of humanity. The day we substituted computer voices for real operators was the end of civilization as we knew it. And simplicity. One page in a typewriter was easier than having to be an engineer to learn a computer."
Bella ignores my soapbox speech. "She hates all new gadgets. You better just take it back right now."
"Yeah," adds Evvie. "Look at her phone. She still has a rotary."
Jack turns to me questioningly.
I sigh. "Next thing I'll 'need' to get two lines, and then we'll need a cell phone. And then maybe a fax machine and then maybe a photocopier. Not to mention a computer. A whole lot of new things to have to take care of."
Sophie agrees. "And learn. I've learned enough already for one lifetime."
Evvie jumps in. "Stuff just complicates your life."
"Besides," I say, indicating this impossibly small space, "where would I put it all?"
"But if you're running a business, you need business equipment," Jack argues.
"I guess," I say without enthusiasm.
"I promise I'll set it up for you so it will be very easy to use." He reaches down into the box and takes out another small package. He opens it and hands the contents out. "Business cards. Nice, huh?"
I examine them. They read:
Gladdy Gold and Associates
Senior Sleuths to the Senior Citizen
"Very nice," I say, not to be polite, but because they are. "Give me the invoices and I'll pay you back."
"It's a gift . . ."
I get testy. But I stop my mouth before I say another negative word. What? Am I crazy? Here's a man who says he loves me and I haven't the sense to say thank you when he gives me a gift? I smile and say, "Thanks, Jack, I really appreciate it."
His face lights up. I'm beginning to remember what having a man in one's life means. He reaches over and takes my hand.
There is a deafening silence in the room. Bella tries to fill it with some noise. "So, what's new, Jack?" she asks. "How is your adorable son?"
"Morrie's just fine," he answers.
Morrie is Morgan Langford, the policeman who became very involved in our lives before I met Jack.
"I'll bet he's very busy with all those assaults and batteries," Sophie comments.
Jack tells her, "Guess so. Crime is a twentyfour/seven kind of business."
I look at Jack, who is looking at me, and the girls are looking at us staring at one another. Finally Evvie takes the hint. "Come on, girls. Let's leave the lovebirds alone."
One by one they wrap what's left of their lunch contributions and file out without a word. Naturally, I feel guilty and call after them. "Take a nap. We're going to be out late tonight."
They mumble their OKs but don't look back.
I close the door and turn to Jack. With a slight edge of sarcasm, I say, "Alone at last."
He comes over to me and pulls me into his arms and kisses me soundly. It feels wonderful.
"I should apologize for them—"
He stops me with another kiss. "Nonsense. I think they're cute. Mean, but cute. They're protecting their territory."
I shake my head in wonder. "Don't you just love coming over here?"
"It's a shade better than a root canal."
I start clearing the table.
"Ida gives new meaning to 'if looks could kill,' " he adds. "I can almost feel the bagel cutter piercing my heart. Hey, gorgeous, before I forget. Guess who wants to have dinner with us on Friday night?"
"George Clooney, I hope."
"No such luck. Will you settle for Morrie? He actually has a night off."
I fake a sigh. "Too bad. But why would your son want to spend a 'date night' with two old fuddy-duddies?"
"He's between girlfriends."
Jack helps me carry everything into the kitchen. "What hit this place?" he asks.
"Just the girls organizing lunch. And talking at the same time."
"They really got to you today, didn't they? I mean, more than usual, with my being here." Jack pitches right in and starts to load the dishwasher. "By the way," he says, "Ms. Don't Like Progress, how come you have a dishwasher? How come we don't have to wash every little dish by hand?"
I swat him with a towel. "It came with the apartment, as you very well know, since you have the same model.
"The girls make me feel like I'm a naughty teenager and they're my disapproving parents. And they watch me to make sure I behave." I hand him the rest of the dishes.
"It's too late. They already assume you're not behaving."
"Not Ida. She's in denial."
"Then let's get married and I'll make an honest woman of you."
"Jack. You promised."
"I haven't asked you in one whole week."
"It won't solve the problem."
"Then let's just live together."
I pretend to look horrified. "What, live in sin?"
"Move to my place. Since it's the same model, you'll feel instantly comfortable."
"And deal with the jealous widows of Phase Six?"
"Let's move to Chicago. Or better yet, Alaska."
"I can't. They need me."
"I need you, too."
"They need me more." This is a game we play over and over. Like my dear best friend, Francie, and I used to do, I think sadly. God, how I miss her. Oh, how she would approve of Jack.
The kitchen is now spotless. "You're good around a house," I say.
"So keep me. I'm available."
"Don't start again."
I hang the dish towel up to dry. He hugs me again. " 'So, waddaya wanna do, Marty?' " he whispers in my ear, replaying the famous line from the old movie.
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