Snagged (15 page)

“Mr. Freize?”

“I’m here.”

“I’m so sorry. Things are so hectic around here.”

Barney hesitated and then decided to go for it. She had kept him waiting several times now. “Ethel,” he began, “do you get any intimation as to whether the sale of the panty-hose patent to Calla-Lily will go through? I mean, you’re right there in the thick of things.”

You’re not kidding, Ethel thought, but she straightened up and said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Freize, but I am not at liberty to discuss the matter. I was just told to tell you that we’ll know tomorrow.”

“You’ll be seeing me then.”

For the third time in ten minutes, Ethel wasn’t given the chance to bid adieu to her gentlemen callers.

I
RVING FRANKLIN SAT at the head of his dining-room table sipping his after-dinner tea as he listened to his mother-in-law’s incessant chatter.

“Fern,” she was saying as she held out her manicured hands to her daughter, “do you like this color? I don’t know . . . I think there might be too much brown in it. When I had my colors done last year, they said I should stay away from brown.”

“They look nice, Mother,” Fern said wearily.

“Yeah, well, I’m not sure. Tammy’s not here, so I can’t ask her. What do you think, Irving?”

Irving put down his teacup. Deep down he wanted to say that he couldn’t care less, but he caught the pleading look in his wife’s eyes. “I think it’s a very flattering shade, Mom.”

He hated to call her Mom. It made him feel disloyal to his own dear departed mother, but it had started years ago when Fern’s sister’s husband decided to call her Mom. Easy for him. He didn’t have to live with her. But most of the time Irving avoided the problem by not addressing her at all. He threw it in now to please Fern, who smiled back at him gratefully.

“Maybe next week I’ll try a different shade. I don’t know. Are you two going to a movie tonight?”

“Irving still has work to do,” Fern answered softly.

“More work? You’re always poking around downstairs in that lab of yours. It’s Friday night.”

“The panty-hose tests must be completed by tomorrow morning,” Irving said with a steely grin.

“I was telling the girls at the nail salon about them today. I said how wonderful they are.”

“We’re not supposed to talk about them, remember?” Irving asked, his voice going up ever so slightly.

“Mom” looked at him sourly. “Well, I can tell you another test they passed, if it’ll make you happy. The girl next to me smeared her polish on them accidentally and it wiped right off.’’

“It did?”

“That’s right,” she said smugly. “I bet you never thought of that test in that dungeon of yours.”

Irving pushed back his chair. “All my
laboratory
tests are not complete. I’m still trying to break down the ingredients of the fabric. I personally believe there’s got to be something wrong with those panty hose and,” he paused, “I intend to find out just what it is.” He kissed his wife on the top of her head. “Fern darling, let me know if you need me.”

As he closed the basement door behind him he happily shut out the sound of “There was another color that had a little more red in it that I think would have been better, but . . .”

T
HAT WAS REALLY fun, wasn’t it, hon?” Nora asked as she and Luke stepped off the elevator.

“We always have a good time with the Durkins, don’t we?” Luke agreed. “I’m looking forward to the wedding on Sunday. By then we’ll be through with the fashion show and all my meetings . . . we can really let loose.” He put his arm around Nora, grabbed her hand, and danced with her down the hallway.

“One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three,” Luke sang.

x

“Oh, my,” Nora laughed as they reached the door. “When Regan gets married, we’ll have to—”

“Nora!” Luke admonished.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it but I was just thinking . . .”

Luke opened the door. “One wedding at a time. This one is Maura’s.” He pointed to the room. “After you, my dear.”

Nora sighed. “Okay. Let’s see if we got any more messages about the fashion show.”

“I can’t wait,” Luke drawled.

Nora went over and picked up the phone. An electronic voice told her that they had received ten messages. She sat down and started to write them down as they played back. The first nine were from people RSVP-ing to the cocktail party. They’d all be happy to come. The tenth message started to play in Nora’s ear.

A well-modulated voice said, “Hello, Mrs. Reilly; my name is Dayton Rotter. I met some of the models who will be in your fashion show tomorrow. Technically I’m down here from New York City for a few days’ vacation, but I’m a venture capitalist and we’re never really off.” He laughed. “This panty hose sounds intriguing, and I was wondering if I could come by your cocktail party tomorrow.” Nora scribbled down his number.

“Luke, you’re not going to believe this!” she exclaimed.

“What?” Luke asked as he hung up his jacket and loosened his tie.

“Dayton Rotter wants to come to the cocktail party!”

“
The
Dayton Rotter?”

“It sounds like him. It must be him. He met some of the models and wants to check out the panty hose.”

Luke whistled. “He’s big. That could be just what Richie needs. Did he leave a number?”

“Yes.”

“Well, call him back.”

“I am, I am.”

Nora dialed the number and sat tapping the desk with her pen. When a man’s voice answered the phone, it sounded as though he was in a crowded bar.

“This is Nora Regan Reilly. Is Dayton Rotter there?”

“It’s me,” he said. “Sorry about the noise. I’m at a club right now. I’ve got my cellular phone with me.”

Surprise, surprise, Nora thought.

“I got your message,” she said, “and we’d be delighted if you came to the party tomorrow. We really think that this panty hose is something special.”

Luke smiled at her and raised his eyebrows.

Nora strained to hear Dayton’s voice and separate it from the blare of the music in the background.

“That’s great,” Dayton almost yelled. “I’d very much like to be there. Quite frankly, if the product is as good as the young ladies say it is, I’d be very interested in developing it. After all, my business is to find good ideas and run with them. By the way, I like your books.”

Nora smiled broadly. “Oh, thank you. We’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“He likes your books?” Luke asked when Nora hung up.

“You do know me, don’t you?”

“After thirty-five years, I would hope so. We’ll have to spread the word that he’s coming. The sight of that guy will get people bidding.” Luke sat on the bed and untied his shoes.

“I’ll call Nick in the morning. And Richie and Regan. Oh, Luke, I really hope this works out. It would make for such a perfect weekend.”

Luke got up and walked toward the bathroom. ’That and if Regan catches the bouquet on Sunday,” he said as he closed the door just in time to avoid being hit by his wife’s airborne terry-cloth slipper.

L
UCILLE LEANED BACK on the pillows of her sister Dolly’s bed as she talked on the rotary phone to her friend Arthur. She had just come upstairs after having a potluck dinner in the Dolly Twiggs Memorial Room.

’The service was so, so lovely, Arthur. I wish you could have been there. Everyone here just loved Dolly. We all broke bread together afterward.” She paused. “What did you have for dinner, dear?”

A second later Lucille bolted upright on the bed. ’ ’What do you mean, Mildred brought over a tuna casserole? I left you plenty of frozen food you could have heated in the microwave . . . She says fresh food is better, does she? . . .”

Lucille felt herself begin to hyperventilate as she listened to Arthur tell her how delicious Mildred’s casserole really was; not too fishy, just right. But when he started to suggest that she should give the folks at the Fourth Quarter an extension, she really began to have an out-of-body experience.

She swallowed hard. ’’Arthur, I can’t afford to give them an extension. I get so depressed when I’m here.” Tears filled her eyes. “I just want to get back home.”

As she listened, the tears spilled down her cheeks. “Oh, I love you too, sweetness. I know you were just trying to be helpful. I miss you too.” She covered the mouthpiece and sniffled. “I’ll be home in time for your birthday next week. I already know what kind of cake I’m going to make you . . . Mildred’s offered to have a party for you?! You didn’t say yes, did you? . . . You told her you’d check with me? Tell her the answer is no, you’ve already got plans.”

Five minutes later, when she hung up the phone, Lucille stuck out her jaw. Business is business, she thought. If I don’t get home soon, Arthur will slip through my fingers. In their retirement village there must be ten women for every man, and he was the most handsome man left, not to mention the healthiest.

Lucille stood up. I need some air, she thought. After that conversation, I certainly don’t feel sleepy. I’ll go downstairs and watch the weirdos wander by.

Outside, Lucille flipped open a beach chair and sat down. No one else from the Fourth Quarter was around. But it was a Friday night and the street was buzzing.

Singles, couples, groups passed by. One outfit is skimpier than the next, Lucille thought. Don’t they ever catch a cold?

A taxi pulled up and stopped. The door opened. Richie got out and Lucille heard him say, “Yes, I’m going to stay home. I’ll talk to you in the morning.” He turned around and waved to Lucille as he walked up the sidewalk.

“You’re out here by yourself? Where is everybody?”

“I think there’s a program they wanted to watch tonight.”

“Mind if I join you?” Richie asked.

“Of course not. This is your place.”

“Let’s hope so,” Richie joked, but the remark hung in the air. “Are you okay, Lucille?”

Her lip quivered. “I suppose. Being here is hard for me. I miss Dolly so much. And now I have this boyfriend Arthur, and I’m missing him too.”

Richie sat down.

“Someone made him a casserole tonight,” Lucille sputtered.

“Oh, God,” Richie said. “Oh, God.”

“Mildred is a pest and I know it shouldn’t get me upset because Arthur’s not interested in her.” Lucille wiped her eyes. “But I’m still scared. I’m hurting from losing Dolly a year ago, and now Arthur has just started to fill that void in my heart that I’ve had since my husband died.”

“You were married before?” Richie asked gently.

“For forty-five wonderful years.”

“Birdie and I were married forty-eight years. A lot of people would say that makes us pretty lucky.”

“I know that. But statistics don’t help when you get lonesome.”

Richie paused. “You’re right. Sometimes I get tired of people telling me how lucky I was to have been happy for so long. I say, what about now?” His voice grew tight. “I wish Birdie were here right this minute; that’s what counts.”

“Don’t I know it,” Lucille declared.

“Lucille . . .”

“Yes, Richie.”

“Wasn’t it hard to start dating after your husband died?”

“Are you kidding me? Of course it was. I never thought I’d look at another man. But one day it just happens. You realize that your spouse would want you to be happy. And then I was lucky enough to meet Arthur.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Finally Lucille stood up. “I’m going to try and get some rest. Tomorrow is a big day, Richie; you should get some sleep too.”

“I’ll just sit out here for a few more minutes.”

As Lucille walked slowly inside, Richie realized that if tomorrow didn’t work out, they could never ask her for an extension. She’s got her own life to worry about, he thought.

The screen door swung open and Elmer Pickett stepped outside.

“Hi, Elmer,” Richie said.

Elmer stood there staring down at Richie. “You know, Richie, everyone could have used the bonus money the real estate agency was willing to pay us if we gave up the option early. Of course now that you’re making the commercials, you don’t have to worry.”

“I made one commercial, Elmer.”

“Whatever. I think you’re leading the people in this home down the garden path with this crazy scheme of yours. Some of them are going to end up in the street, when they could have at least left here with a few dollars.”

Richie stood up and stared into Elmer’s eyes. Through clenched teeth he raised his voice. “It’s not a crazy scheme! And we took a vote!”

His heart beating wildly, Richie hurried down the sidewalk and hailed a taxi. I’ve got to get out to the panty-hose factory, he thought. I want to be around the machines and make sure I have the names of everyone in the business I wrote to. There might even be more panty hose there. Just stepping inside the cab and giving the address made him feel better.

He didn’t notice that a car nearby had just pulled out of its parking space and was following him.

R
EGAN RANG THE bell of Joey’s house. As she stood there on the porch she rubbed her neck and rolled her head from side to side. Someone had told her the exercise releases tension. She had never figured out whether that was really true, but it was a good way to pass the time.

The door was pulled open.

“Hi!”

The guy who worked at Richie’s modeling agency was standing in front of her.

“Hi!” Regan said back as he let her in. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here.”

“You live here?”

“Do I hear an echo?” Joey yelled from the living room.

“I’m dating a comedian,” Nadine pronounced as she got up to greet Regan. “You know Scott?”

“We met today at the agency.” Regan glanced at him. He seemed so much more alive than when she had met him in the office. He certainly was handsome with his wavy dark hair, warm brown eyes, and ingratiating smile.

“Yes,” Scott agreed and put his arm around Regan. He explained to Nadine, “She’s using some of our models tomorrow in her panty-hose fashion show.”

“Small world,” Nadine said as she led Regan inside. “Walking through here can be hazardous to your health. Please do so at your own risk.”

Regan stepped over a set of barbells and was reminded of the fraternities at her college, especially the one they’d dubbed P.U. Sometimes it felt as though that was another lifetime ago. Being here tonight brought it back in a rush. She laughed. The whole scene made her feel ten years younger. After all, people had got along just fine before vacuums were invented.