High Anxiety (20 page)

“You’ll be seeing us on a regular basis,” my mother said. “In fact, Trixie and I always go to the movies on Thursday night because it’s senior’s night and we get a discount. We can swing by and pick you up on the way. Oh, and you’ll have to come for dinner sometime so you can meet our roommate, Arnell. You will like him, even though I should warn you that he’s a little, um, different. I’m only telling you so you won’t be caught off guard.”

“He hasn’t had it easy,” Aunt Trixie said. “Inside, he feels like a woman, but on the outside he’s a man. He claims he has spent his entire life trapped in a man’s body.”

John looked confused.

“It’s called gender identity disorder,” I told him, although I did not mention Arnell was a patient of mine.

“He will eventually have some kind of surgery that will turn him into a woman,” my mother said, then looked at me. “What do they call it?”

“Sexual reassignment,” I replied, and hoped we could change the subject. I did not feel right discussing Arnell’s personal issues.

“I would love to go with the two of you on Thursday night,” John said, “and I look forward to meeting this Arnell person. I learned long ago not to judge people.”

We finished our pizza, and my mother and aunt told John all about their junk business. “We decided to try and turn it into art.”

“Of course, we had to learn how to weld,” Aunt Trixie said, “but it was well worth it, because our little studio does a booming business.”

“You wouldn’t believe how much people are willing to pay for junk,” my mother told him.

“I’d love to see it sometime,” John said.

I said good-bye to John in the parking lot. He insisted on giving me a hug. “One thing I’ve learned,” he said, “is that you can never give or receive too many hugs.”

I found myself smiling as I drove home, and I was glad I’d accepted my mother’s dinner invitation. I was also happy that she and my aunt had sort of adopted John Smith, just as they had Arnell.

I was so caught up in my thoughts that I did not see the car barreling toward me until its bright lights shone in my rearview mirror, blinding me and making it impossible to see the make and model. It passed me at a high speed, and I recognized the white sedan.

I pulled into my driveway, and as I climbed from the car, I looked up and down the street, just in case I was being followed. Inside my house, I left the lights off and sat near the window overlooking my street. It was well past midnight when I saw the car cruise by, but I could not get a look at the driver. I didn’t have to; I knew in my gut it was Abigail. Had she lied about her car being in the shop, forcing her to take the bus? Had she made up the whole thing so I wouldn’t be angry when I discovered she had taken the key to my office without my permission?

I had an eerie feeling. I had seen what she was capable of. Just how far would she go?

 

 

It was still
dark when I woke up the next morning. I tried to go back to sleep, but my mind was spinning. I showered and dressed. At seven thirty I drove to the hospital to check on Alice. She was depressed and worried about her job. I asked to speak to Liz, but as I expected, she didn’t show.

 

 

I was suffering
a bad case of jitters when I arrived at the office. I looked in each room, wanting to make certain all was as it should be. I barely had time to make coffee and drink my first cup before Mona called.

“Somebody slashed my damn tires,” she said.

I didn’t know what to say. I finally found my voice. “When do you think it happened?”

“Obviously, sometime during the night. Jimbo just informed me.”

“I thought he was watching the house.”

“He can’t be expected to keep an eye on things twenty-four-seven,” she said. “He has to sleep at some point. Do you think it was that bitch, Abigail?”

“She’s the first person who comes to mind,” I said.

“How the hell does she know where I live? And how did she get my number to call me the other day? It’s unlisted.”

“I didn’t want to drag you into this, Mona, but she took the Rolodex from your desk. I’m really sorry.” Actually, I was more angry than anything. It was one thing for Abigail to harass me, but to go after someone I was close to really pissed me off.

“What does that lunatic have against
me
?” Mona asked. “I’ve never laid eyes on her.”

“I know this is going to sound strange, but I think she’s jealous of our friendship. I think she has been following me.”

“That’s scary, Kate. We need to call the police.”

“I have no proof, and I don’t know her address. The temp agency might have it, but they’re not likely to give it to us.”

“They’ll have to give it to the police,” Mona said. “What’s the name of the agency?”

“Midtown Temps.”

“I’ll call you back later,” Mona said, “after I’ve talked to the police.”

I barely had time to hang up before Frank Cox from the bank phoned me.

“Kate, I’m glad I caught you,” he said. “Do you have a minute?”

I knew why he was calling. “Of course,” I said.

“It’s about the young lady who has been working for you. Abigail Davis,” he added. “I have several good applicants I’m considering for the position we have available, but Miss Davis listed you as a reference, which I consider a big plus. What do you think of her?”

I debated what to say. I wasn’t going to lie and sing Abigail’s praises when I knew she was a kook. I had too many friends who worked at the bank. “Miss Davis worked for me only briefly, Frank,” I said, “but I had to let her go.”

“Really?” He sounded surprised.

“Which is why I’m totally baffled to learn that she listed me as a reference. I think hiring her would be a huge mistake. I hope this is off the record,” I added.

“Absolutely, and I appreciate your candor. I’ll simply tell her we decided to go with someone who had more experience.”

We said good-bye. I was certain I’d done the right thing by warning Frank.

 

 

The rest of
the day passed quickly. Ellen and Gerald Holmes arrived back from Hawaii late that afternoon, and I agreed to see them at six p.m. They didn’t look happy. They sat on the sofa, as far away from each other as possible.

“I’m sorry your trip was a disappointment,” I said, even though I’d suspected all along that the idea of a so-called second honeymoon had been a bad one, since Ellen still wore her anger like a medal. At the same time, I had hoped they would be able to put their differences aside and simply enjoy spending time in one of the most beautiful locations in the world.

Neither of them responded. They didn’t even look at each other.

“So, where do we go from here?” I asked.

“I don’t know that I’m going to be able to forgive Gerald,” Ellen said. “Ever,” she added. “And to be honest, I don’t think this was his first time to cheat.”

“That’s a lie!” Gerald said. He bolted to his feet and put his finger in his wife’s face. “You know what your problem is, Ellen? You think I’m your father and, frankly, I’m tired of being compared to him.”

She shot him a dark look. “This has
nothing
to do with my father,” she said. “This is about
us
!”

I looked from one to the other. “What about Ellen’s father?” I asked.

Gerald backed away from his wife. “He cheated on Ellen’s mother for most of their marriage,” he said. “He eventually walked out.”

“You have no right to discuss what happened between my mother and father,” Ellen snapped.

“I have
every
right,” he said, “because I’ve been paying for his sins our entire marriage.” He wiped his hands down his face and looked at me. “I thought it was cute that Ellen was jealous of other women when we started dating exclusively. But after we married, it got worse.”

“Worse how?” I asked.

“She went through my wallet, my closet, and my drawers. She checked my cell phone records and credit card receipts. I stopped going to the gym after work because she was always checking up on me. It was embarrassing. It’s like she
wanted
me to cheat so she could say, ‘Aha!’ I can’t take it anymore.”

Ellen didn’t respond, but her eyes filled with tears. Before long she was sobbing. “You have no idea what it was like,” she told her husband. “I adored him. My whole world came crashing down on me. I blamed myself.”

“Most children blame themselves, Ellen,” I said, “but it wasn’t your fault. You’re going to have to let go of it.”

“It’s so hard,” she said.

Gerald looked sad for her. “Dr. Holly is right, Ellen. Don’t do it for me. Do it for yourself,” he added.

She stood on shaky legs. “I’m so sorry, Gerald,” she said. “I want to change.”

He reached for her, and she stepped closer. He closed his arms around her, and they simply held on to each other, tears streaming down their faces.

I got up from my chair and slipped quietly from my office, giving them the time they needed together. They still had a long way to go, but I felt they’d made progress.

 

 

At the end
of the day I looked up to find Mona standing in my doorway, dressed head to toe in black, including a hat with a veil attached that hid her face. Her hands were stuffed into black, elbow-length gloves.

She struck a pose. “What do you think? I bought this outfit when Mr. Moneybags died. I decided to save it in case I married another old man with money.”

“I know you have a perfectly logical reason for wearing mourning attire,” I said, “but it’s going to take me some time to figure it out.”

“I’m trying to hide my rash,” she said. “Saks just got in their new spring line today. The manager called and said I could take a peek before they put anything on the floor.”

“Like I can afford Saks,” I muttered. “How come Kmart never calls me when Jaclyn Smith’s frocks arrive?”

“So, do you want to go?” she asked. “Jimbo is outside with the limo. We can have dinner afterward at this place I know where the lights are dim and the booths tall so people can’t see us. I’ll be able to remove this stupid veil. Besides, we need the diversion. It’ll take our minds off Crazy Abigail.”

“Have the police discovered anything?”

“The address she gave the temp agency turned out to be an abandoned building. The police are still looking into it, but like you said, there is no proof that she did any of the things we suspect.”

I couldn’t hide my disappointment, but I did not want to spend the evening dwelling on Abigail. “I’d love to go with you,” I said. I grabbed my purse and locked the office. Jimbo, dressed in his chauffeur’s outfit, held the limo door open, and we climbed in.

“How are your mom and Tiara?” I asked once we were on our way to Phipp’s Plaza, where all the “best” stores were located.

“They’re practicing birthing techniques in my bathtub.”

“Huh?”

“Tiara is going to have a water birth.”

“I thought only fish did that sort of thing.”

“My mama’s patients were birthing babies in water long before it became popular with those earth-mother types, as I call them. You know, those women who wear Birkenstocks, don’t shave their legs and armpits, and wouldn’t take an aspirin if they were having their gallbladder removed with a handsaw. I don’t believe people should suffer pain when there are good drugs available. Not that I’m ever going to have children, mind you. I saw too many births growing up.”

“You don’t want
any
children?” I asked, surprised that Mona seemed so dead set against it.

“Nope.”

“I would like to have at least one,” I said. “Preferably two,” I added. “And I wouldn’t mind having them at home with a midwife. I mean, your mom is so attentive.”

“Maybe so, but attentiveness can’t compare to a morphine drip.”

We continued to debate the issue. “I don’t know why we’re talking about it,” I said. “It doesn’t look like I’m going to get pregnant anytime soon, and I wouldn’t want to unless I knew for certain that Jay and I could work out our problems.”

“You will,” Mona said. “I’m sure of it.”

Jimbo pulled behind Saks where the manager, a forty-something-year-old man with graying hair at his temples and exemplary taste in clothes waited for us. He took Mona’s gloved hand in his.

“I’m so sorry for the loss of your brother,” he said. “I would certainly have understood had you not felt like coming this afternoon.”

Even through the dark veil I could see Mona’s impatience to be inside where the racks of clothes waited. “I’m fine,” she said, waving the comment aside. “Besides, he and I weren’t close.”

The man led us inside. The room resembled a warehouse, with the exception of a Persian rug, two overstuffed chairs, and a bottle of fine chardonnay chilling in a wine bucket. Mona and I each took a chair, and the manager filled two glasses and handed them to us. Several women began presenting one outfit after another.

An hour later, Mona had made her selections. I had learned that rich people didn’t need as much time to shop as the average person, because they didn’t have to look at the price tags.

“As always, you have excellent taste, Mrs. Epps,” the manager said. “I will see that the clothes are delivered to your home tomorrow.”

Mona was still riding a wave of shopping euphoria as Jimbo drove us to a popular restaurant where she had made reservations. The maître d’ led us to a high-backed leather booth at the very rear and offered Mona the wine list. The cost of the bottle she ordered would have paid my entire utility bill.

“How is the rash?” I asked once we were alone.

“It’s getting worse despite all that Mama has done. It has spread to other parts of my body.” Mona removed her veil.

“You were right about the dim lighting,” I said. “It’s barely noticeable.”

“I’ve got an appointment next week with a specialist at Emory University Hospital,” she said. “In the meantime, I’m trying not to let it get me down and maybe make it worse. Easier said than done,” she added.