by Rita Lakin
Well, well, Evvie, look at you.
The other women are wearing jewelry, but nothing as startling as hers. And Evvie is carrying it off, behaving as if a person with her demeanor would only wear real jewelry. Even I’m amazed and impressed with my sister. She is noticed, by one and all, as she enters the ballroom.
The next song is a waltz. I am actually surprised. Seymour Banks, my dinner tablemate, leaves the edge of the room where he has been playing wallflower, bows, and asks me to dance.
To my unasked question, he tells me why. “Because you sit at my table.”
As if that makes us members of the same not-so-glee club. Nevertheless, I get up and he gracefully whirls me around. He’s not too bad.
“It’s like falling off a bicycle,” he tells me, spinning me again.
Lo and behold, Philip has Evvie in his arms. He didn’t waste any time. Put a redhead before the bull? Or something like that. They are breathtaking to watch. I had forgotten how good a dancer Evvie was. All those years of lessons she made Papa pay for so she could become a star.
Every so often, as Seymour and I clumsily dip and turn, I catch the tiniest snatch of conversation from Evvie as she is dazzling Philip.
“Did anyone ever tell you that you look like a movie star?” Evvie says.
“My dear, you flatter me.”
I can’t help but smile. The woman who would be Doris Day now has the role she’s waited for all her life. I hope she gets Smythe to reveal something that will help our case.
Seymour actually tries to engage me in conversation. He speaks yet again about his dead wife. Believe me, I’m sympathetic. How well I remember the rut that widows and widowers find so hard to get out of. Myself included. Playing grief over and over again, as if that could make it come out differently. I want to repeat the oldest and truest of all cliches—this, too, shall pass. But he isn’t ready to hear it. Who am I to preach—did I ever get over my own loss?
Right now, though, I want to get closer in order to hear everything Evvie and Philip are saying. I find myself leading poor Seymour. And here we are again, spinning our way around dancers to get to the most popular couple on the floor. There isn’t a woman on the floor who isn’t watching them.
Evvie’s hand moves up his back to touch the black and silvery hair. “Oh, yes, Philip dear, I’m a widow.”
Philip, dear? A widow? Her very alive ex-husband, Joe, would have a fit if he heard that.
Another turn, as she swirls her red skirts sexily and bats her fake eyelashes. “Poor little me. I’m all alone in the world.”
As we nearly collide at the bar area, on purpose I might add, I try to poke her. Evvie ignores me as she manages crocodile tears for dear Philip. She lowers her voice, but I hear her anyway. “... six months to live, but oh, how I intend to enjoy them...”
Oh, Evvie, what are you doing? Our plan was to see which woman he picks so we can study his M.O.: it’s not supposed to be you!
The waltz is over. Seymour says something to me, but I don’t hear him. I can’t stop staring at the magic couple. Philip is not leaving Evvie’s side. She continues to talk and smile and flirt outrageously. He takes her by the arm and picks up another glass of champagne for her at the bar. She smiles endearingly up at him. He whispers something to her. She nods. They walk out onto the terrace. I swear, every woman’s eyes still follow them. The emotions range from curiosity to prurient interest to downright jealousy. The die is cast. No doubt about it. Romeo has picked his Juliet.
I’m going to kill my sister when we get back upstairs.
TWENTY-ONE
ON THE TERRACE
We’re Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire, Evvie thinks, as she looks around the terrace. The two of them dressed in glamorous evening wear, a full glorious moon, and the weather, Florida’s best, balmy and soft. The kind of night for falling in love.
“Don’t move.” Philip stands with his arms outstretched. “I want to remember you just the way you are. My lady in red.”
“I was just imagining Fred Astaire. That’s the kind of beautiful thing he would say to Ginger.”
“And rightly so. This is indeed a cinematic moment. Remember in Top Hat they danced on such a set as this?”
“You like movies?”
“I am a devotee. I’m mad about them.”
“Then you are a man after my own heart. I’m crazy about them, too.”
His voice lowers. “I hope so. That I am a man after your heart.” He steps toward her. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” He reaches out and takes each end of the scarlet boa and pulls her slowly toward him, sliding his hands up the boa until he brings her close enough to kiss her.
Taking her gently into his arms, Philip leads her into a foxtrot.
“There’s no music,” Evvie says.
“We don’t need any music.”
Is this me? Evvie thinks. This poor girl from the Bronx? Who went to movies as a child to drink in the beauty of how other people lived? To dream of how life could be if her parents hadn’t been poor immigrants, hardly able to speak the language of this country they so luckily adopted?
“Beautiful lady in red,” Philip murmurs in her ear, and she shudders with pleasure.
Is this gorgeous man holding me? Is this the man of my dreams? Can a girl fall in love at first sight like they do in the movies?
“Yes, dear?” she murmurs.
He whispers in her ear, “I’m Philip.”
“I’m Evelyn,” she whispers back.
He begins to sing. “I never will forget the way you look tonight... My lady in red.’ ”
TWENTY-TWO
WHEN THE LOVE BUG BITES
It’s midnight and I’ve been pacing, seems like forever. Finally, I hear the key turn in the lock. I listen at the front door. I hear two voices mumbling in the hallway. Then the door closes. Is she alone?
A moment later, Evvie pounds on our adjoining door and comes prancing in.
“Bingo,” she says, whirling me around. “We’re in.”
I force her to let go of me. “Where have you been?”
She looks at me strangely. “What are you—my mother?”
“I’ve been waiting for hours.”
“And I’ve been on the job.”
“Really? What have you learned about our alleged, possibly dangerous, killer?”
She grins. “That he loves champagne. He loves to dance. He simply loooves beautiful women.” She preens, satisfied with herself. “Did I look gorgeous tonight, or what?”
“That’s it? Nothing about his background?”
“Give me a break. I’ve only just begun.” She hums the once-popular song those words came from. I grimace.
“Lighten up. Isn’t this what we planned? We needed to get closer to him. Well, babe”—she whirls herself around—“I’m as close as we can get.”
I cross my arms against my chest. “Not quite. And how much closer are you willing to get?” Evvie is puzzled. Obviously she hasn’t considered the next step.
She kicks off her heels and flops down on the couch. “What are you talking about?”
“You know darn well what I mean. He’s not looking for a buddy.” I imitate Ida as best I can. “He’s going to want sex.”
Evvie jumps back off the couch and heads for the adjoining doors. She flings them open. “Boy, that’s gratitude!”
With that, she enters her own apartment and slams the door behind her.
I have this sudden memory of Evvie coming home with a date when she was sixteen. My mother and father didn’t trust this boy. After they interrogated her—Where did she go? What did she do?—hot-tempered Evvie ran from the room saying she was old enough to think for herself and nobody was going to tell her what to do. So, now I’ve become our judgmental mother? Part of me has always respected Evvie’s independence. But I still can’t resist calling after her.
“You forgot your glass slippers, Cinderella.”
When I lift my head off my pillow and squint to read my
little clock on the side table, it’s only seven A.M. I can hear Evvie’s radio on next door. Why is she up so early? I feel bad about being so hard on her last night. Maybe we’ll have a cup of coffee together and clear the air before we go down to breakfast. I put my robe on and hurry across the bedroom and through the living room. I’m still not used to the size of this apartment. It’s so far to go from one room to the other.
I knock on her adjoining door. To my surprise, when she answers, I see she’s already dressed. In a stylish jogging outfit. And wearing makeup, with her hair smartly combed. I still can’t get over the auburn color. My gray suddenly feels very old to me. “Good morning,” I say. “You’re up early.”
“Yes.” Her voice is cool.
“How about we have coffee together before we go downstairs?”
“No time.” She looks at her fake Cartier watch. “Philip is meeting me. We’re going jogging.”
“Jogging,” I sputter. “Since when have you ever jogged?”
“I have no time for this. He’s waiting.”
“Let me throw some clothes on and I’ll join you. I’ll walk, though.”
“What for? I don’t need a chaperone.”
“Excuse me, I thought we were partners.”
“Hello? Don’t you get it? I don’t need you. I am perfectly capable of doing this job alone.”
Who is this stranger standing before me, coiffed and perfumed and haughty? Her nail polish perfect. When and where did she buy that outfit? In the downstairs boutique at those exorbitant prices? On Ferguson’s expense account, no doubt. After one night of dancing, she’s actually convinced herself she’s one of them, these rich ladies of leisure?
“Evvie, what are you doing?”
She doesn’t answer me. She checks herself out in the mirror of her compact. In all the years we’ve been in Florida, she’s never owned a compact.
I blurt, childlike, “What am I supposed to do while you’re on the job?”
“Really, Glad, you’re being thick. There’s plenty to do around here. Find something.”
With that, she turns and walks out her front door.
I call softly after her, “Don’t break a leg, Miss Doris Day.”
TWENTY-THREE
IN THE GARDEN
How clear the sky is. How fresh the air. Even colors look brighter to her on this beautiful day. Flowers toss out their delicious scents as she passes one bed after another. The pond glistens as she and Philip jog around it. Evvie can’t remember the last time she felt like this. If ever.
She still treats me like the baby sister. Evvie bristles, thinking of her spat with Gladdy. She’s only two years older, for goodness’ sake, but she acts as if she’s the only one who behaves responsibly. She thinks she’s in charge of our friends just because she’s the only one who still drives, and now she thinks she’s in charge of me, too! What about all those years I helped raise her little Emily when she was forced to work after Jack was killed? Granted, I love her daughter as much as I do my own Martha, but that’s gratitude for you.
Philip turns his head to look at her and Evvie giggles. Slow walking with the girls around Lanai Gardens didn’t prepare her for this. She keeps up with him as best she can.
“Am I moving too quickly?” he asks with a look of concern.
“Just fine. I can keep up.”
“I know you can.” But he slows slightly anyway. A couple of women jog past them. The women grin widely at Philip, flirting outright, ignoring Evvie. Philip grins back.
“You’re quite the ladies’ man, aren’t you?”
“I plead guilty. 'Women are the much nicer sex. They’re so soft and pliant. Are you soft and pliant, mon amour?”
Evvie blushes, “You’re a fast worker.”
“At our age, I should go slow?”
With that, they both break out laughing.
Philip is serious now. “Let me tell you something about me. I was raised by an elderly aunt after my parents died. She was the only family I had left. She gave me so much love, and when she became terminally ill, I was devastated. I was only thirteen at the time. But I knew it was up to me to take care of her. It took so long for her to find peace. It was a blessing when she finally died.”
“You mean, as a thirteen-year-old, you took care of her alone?”
“Not quite alone. Auntie was very rich. Our whole family had been rich: We had servants to do everything. But I was the one who nursed her.”
Evvie stops to sit on a bench for a short rest. She can’t take her eyes off him. She’s never heard a man speak so gently and so kindly.
“So, you see, as a very wealthy man, I could spend my time as I wanted. I traveled, even dallied with work for some years, but once I reached a certain age, I knew I had a mission. I owed it to my beloved aunt Dorothy. I wanted to ease the pain of older women. I wanted to be with them, do whatever they needed until... they needed me no more.”
“And this is why you’re attracted to me? Because of my illness?”
He sits down next to her and takes her hand. “In this case my attraction is much more than that.”
Evvie’s heart flutters in her chest and she suddenly regrets having lied to Philip about being ill. Her job was to find out if he was guilty. But what’s she’s sensing in this lovely man makes her want to blurt out the truth. That she’s here under false pretenses. But something stops her.
Philip kisses her hand and looks deeply into her eyes. “It would break my heart to lose you.”
TWENTY-FOUR
BACK TO LANAI GARDENS
Breakfast is a nightmare. I feel at a total loss.
Everyone is talking about Evvie and Phil, even my moribund group. For a change they’re not kvetching about their dead spouses and sad lives. Today it’s “Who is she—that hussy in red?”
“She’s only here a couple of days and she acts like she owns the place.”
And from the eager babbling of people at other tables, all of whom by now have noticed the absence of the new twosome, I conclude that they are the sole topic of breakfast conversation.
And we promised Hope Watson we would keep a low profile. Wait until the gossip mill reaches her ear; she’s going to have a fit. I eat quickly and excuse myself. Since my sister has made it clear I’m not needed, I’m heading back to Lanai Gardens to check on my girls.
I park in a guest spot, since my old Chevy is in its own space, and head for the entrance to my building. I’ll check the mail and then I’ll listen to my answering machine. Maybe Jack called, I think, but in my heart I don’t believe it.
“She’s not there, she’s here, stop dialing.” I hear my cell phone ring just as I spy Bella hanging over the rail of her floor. Bella waves agitatedly to me. Then I see Ida come out of Bella’s apartment. “Come up, hurry.”
I cross the courtyard to the building opposite mine, where Evvie and Bella have their apartments, and hurry up the stairs. I’m too nervous to wait for the elevator.
Hy and Lola, who live next door to Bella, pop out of their place as soon as they hear our voices. Mister Buttinsky has to stick his two cents in. He announces excitedly, “Sophie’s gone nutsoid.” He whirls his finger around his head to make the point.
“What happened?” I ask the girls.
Hy insists on answering for them. “She called nine-one-one in the middle of the night.”
Ida shakes a fist at him. “Shut up, yenta.”
He shrugs. “I was only trying to be neighborly.” With an injured last glance, he pushes Lola back into their apartment and slams the door behind him.
“That man,” Ida says. “I wanna string him up from the lamppost.”
“Never mind him. Tell me.”
Bella is quivering. “We’re just about to go to the hospital to visit her. Denny said he’d drive us.”
“Well, I’m here, I’ll drive. Let’s go.” As we hurry to the elevator, I say, “Talk.”
Ida catches me up. “She called for an ambulance at two A.M. We didn’t know. We didn�
��t hear anything. When we got up everybody was phoning or knocking on our doors. We called the hospital. They said she was resting. She’s not in intensive care, so they said we could come at visiting hours.”
Denny is standing by his car. I thank him but tell him I’m driving over. He is as caring as ever. “I hope Miss Sophie is okay.”
I indicate that Bella and Ida should get into my Chevy. It’s closer than the Caddy.
“Where’s Evvie?” Bella asks as I start to drive.
“She’s very busy being a detective,” I say in a very cool voice.
Ida is sharp. “You both met Philip?”
“You could put it that way. I’m here and she isn’t. The red dress and boa did the trick. Get it?”
Ida’s eyebrows rise. “I think so.”
Bella looks puzzled but I don’t bother to explain.
“Fill me in. What’s been going on?” I ask.
Bella looks to Ida to do the explaining. “Where do I begin? A couple of days ago we all went for a walk. We get to that stop sign on the corner near Phase Three? And Sophie stops. We start to cross the street and she won’t go. We tell her it’s safe, no cars coming.”
“She won’t move. Like she was digging her heels into the cement.”
“We ask her why,” Ida continues. “She says she’s waiting for the light to change. I had to tell her twice that it was a stop sign, not a light.”
“How bizarre,” I say, now really beginning to worry. I don’t want to begin to think about how serious this might be.
Bella gets more excited. “Tell her about the ants. You know how Sophie hates ants in her kitchen. Or any bugs.”
Ida shakes her head. “I get a hysterical phone call from her. She’s screaming, ‘Ants!’ Bella was with me.”
