A Room with a Pew

by Peg Cochran

  Lucille opened the book and was ready to thumb through it to find the page for last Friday, but it appeared as if the first page, with names, dates and times running halfway down, was the only page.

  “What’s the matter?” Flo hissed. “Hurry up. That dragon is looking at us. I think she’s getting suspicious.”

  Flo looked up and gave the woman behind the desk a broad smile.

  “It’s not here,” Lucille said, studying the dates.

  “What do you mean it’s not there?”

  “This here’s a new book. It doesn’t go any further back than today.”

  “The old book has to be here somewhere.”

  Lucille felt Flo poke her in the ribs. “Look.” She gestured with her head toward an open office door behind the reception desk. A woman in a severe black suit was sitting at a desk tapping out something on a computer.

  “What?”

  “See? On the desk. It’s a red book with New Beginnings written on it. Just like this book.” Flo tapped the register with her nail.

  “Yeah?”

  “So maybe that’s the old book. The one before this one.” Flo tapped the book again.

  “We have to get ahold of it.”

  “How? Walk in and ask to see it? Grab it off the desk and run?”

  Lucille scowled. “Let me think, would you? Sheesh. There’s got to be a way.”

  The elevator doors to the lobby whooshed open and a young woman with her blond hair in a ponytail came out carrying a sullen-looking toddler. She had a lollipop in one hand, and the little boy kept trying to grab it while his mother patiently explained that he would have to wait until after dinner to have the candy grandma had given him.

  The little boy’s face clouded over and he burst into tears, yelling at the top of his lungs and batting at his mother’s head.

  Everyone turned to look in their direction as his mother hustled him out of New Beginnings.

  Lucille snapped her fingers. “That’s it! That’s what we need! A diversion!”

  “A diversion?”

  “Yeah. Something to bring everyone running. While they’re all busy watching what’s going on, we sneak in and grab that book.” Lucille gestured toward the open office door.

  “That’s brilliant. What should we do?”

  “Well . . .” Lucille hesitated. She was hoping Flo would come up with something. “We could set off the fire alarm maybe?”

  Flo pointed over their heads. “If the sprinklers go on, New Beginnings is going to be pretty upset about their ruined furniture and soggy carpet.”

  Lucille tried to think of things that would bring people running—especially the employees of New Beginnings. She heard a siren in the distance. A fire? Nah, like Flo had said, that would cause too much damage. The siren grew louder. Was it a fire truck? Lucille wondered. Or maybe an ambulance?

  “I’ve got it,” Lucille shouted suddenly.

  “Sheesh, Lucille, don’t shout like that. You made me jump.”

  “It’s just that I’ve got an idea.”

  “I’m all ears.” Flo leaned her elbows on the reception desk.

  “We’re going to need Ma.”

  “I don’t know, Lucille. Your mother is a bit of a loose cannon, if you know what I mean.”

  “Don’t worry, if I know Ma, she’ll do great.”

  They walked to the elevator and pushed the button. The doors opened and they stepped inside. Flo paused with her finger over the buttons. “What floor is she on?”

  “Second.”

  Flo pushed the button for the second floor and waited. The doors remained open. She pushed the button again. The doors still did not close. She pushed the button a third and fourth time, then finally held her finger on it as the doors took their leisurely time closing.

  “What’s the matter with this thing?”

  “I imagine the doors shut slow on account of all the old people getting on and off with their walkers and canes.”

  Flo grunted. “There should be some sort of override for those of us who still have the use of our limbs.”

  Lucille led the way down the hall to Theresa’s room. The hallway was quiet, although the sound of some game show on television could be heard coming from behind several of the closed doors. It didn’t look like no one had gone down to dinner yet, so hopefully Theresa would be in her room.

  “Here we are,” Lucille said, stopping in front of a door halfway down the hall. She knocked.

  “Who is it?” Theresa’s muffled voice came through the door.

  “It’s me, Ma.”

  “Who?”

  “It’s your daughter. Lucille.”

  “Why didn’t you say so?” Theresa said as she opened the door.

  Lucille opened her mouth to say something but then snapped it shut again. There was no point.

  “You’re sure dressed up, Ma,” Lucille said, stepping over the threshold. “Looks like you’re ready for dinner on one of them fancy cruises.”

  Theresa twirled around, making her skirt swirl around her legs. “This place here is like the Love Boat. So many cute guys. My neighbor,” she said and jerked her head to the left, “Mildred Jankowitz, has hooked up with a really nice gentleman. He’s got all his hair and most of his teeth, too.”

  Hooked up? Lucille thought. Since when did her mother start talking like Bernadette? And when did she, Lucille, become such an old fogey?

  Flo perked up. “Any of them got any money?” She held her hand out in front of her face and examined her nails.

  “Flo!” Lucille said. “What about Richie? He’s got a good job—you’ll always have food on the table and a place to live.”

  “Sheesh, Lucille, what if I wanted more out of life than that? A little excitement, you know? A trip to Vegas once in a while and maybe one of them Caribbean cruises.”

  “Yeah? You want excitement, huh? Well let me tell you. You hook up”—Lucille felt slightly self-conscious using her newfound vocabulary—“you hook up with any of the geezers here, and the excitement will kill them before the plane even takes off.”

  “I’ve got to be getting down to dinner,” Theresa said, standing in front of the mirror in the foyer and checking her hair. “They’re having lobster thermidor tonight, and if you don’t get down there right on the dot, there won’t be any left and you’ll be stuck with the boiled chicken breast.”

  “Yeah, but that might be healthier for you, Ma.”

  “Healthier? What? I’m supposed to live forever?”

  “Never mind that now,” Lucille said. “We need your help with something.”

  “Yeah? You gals on the tail of another murderer?”

  “Sort of. We need you to create a diversion in the lobby.”

  Flo looked up from her nails, startled.

  “So we can steal the guest book that’s on the desk of whoever that is who sits behind the reception area.”

  Theresa snorted. “Her? That’s the administrator. She’s a real killjoy, I can tell you that.” Theresa was quiet for a moment. “So what kind of diversion am I going to create? I could do a striptease in the lobby.”

  “No, no, no, no,” Lucille hastened to say. “We was thinking you could maybe fake a fainting spell or something like that. That ought to bring everybody running, don’t you think?”

  “We need something more dramatic than that,” Flo said.

  “Like a heart attack.” Theresa looked from Flo to Lucille and back again. “That ought to do it.” She put a hand to her chest and began staggering around, moaning.

  Lucille shook her head. “Maybe tone it down a little. All we need is a diversion—you’re not going for an Academy Award here.”

  “I’ve got to attract attention, Lucille. I’m not going to do that by toning it down.”

  Lucille was beginning to think that maybe this wasn’t such a great idea after all.

  Chapter 7

  Several elaborately dressed women and one man got on the elevator with Lucille, Flo and Theresa. They all rode down
to the lobby in silence. Lucille sent up a prayer to St. Genisius of Rome, patron saint of actors. She hoped her mother didn’t overdo things and maybe even hurt herself. All they needed was something to distract the administrator long enough for Lucille to grab that book off her desk.

  The elevator stopped and the doors pinged open to the lobby. A small group had gathered outside the entrance to the dining room waiting for the staff to finish setting the tables.

  “Mildred,” Theresa called to a heavily made-up woman clutching the arm of a gentleman, who Lucille thought didn’t look none too happy about it.

  Mildred turned around.

  “Save me some of the lobster thermidor, would you?”

  Mildred winked and gave Theresa the thumbs-up.

  Lucille urged her mother toward the reception desk. Maybe the administrator had left her desk and there would be no need for this here charade. Lucille fervently hoped so.

  Lucille peered into the office while Flo and Theresa pretended to study a daily activities calendar displayed on an easel under a huge fake ficus tree.

  The administrator was still on her computer, staring intently at the monitor. Lucille gave her mother a nod. There was nothing to do but go with plan B.

  “Ohhhhhhh.” Theresa groaned so loudly Lucille and Flo both jumped.

  Lucille stole a glance through the open door, but the woman at the desk hadn’t even turned around. She raised her eyebrows at her mother.

  Her mother clutched her chest and staggered backward. “I’m having a heart attack. Help! Someone call an ambulance. Help!”

  That did it. Lucille watched as the administrator jumped up from her seat and charged into the lobby. She pulled a cell phone from her pocket and was dialing as she approached Theresa.

  “Someone help her over to the sofa,” she commanded.

  A staff member ran toward Theresa just as Flo was taking her arm. Theresa sagged between them, and together they lifted her onto a blue velvet couch.

  Theresa gave a few more groans, fluttered her eyelashes and closed her eyes.

  “Is she dead?” asked one of the residents who had flocked to the excitement.

  “Ambulance is on its way,” the administrator announced in crisp tones. “Stand back, everybody. Stand back. Everything is going to be okay.”

  A few moments later they heard a siren in the distance growing louder and louder.

  Lucille looked around. The coast was clear, so to speak. She felt her hands get clammy. She checked one more time that the administrator was occupied with Theresa and then plunged into the empty office.

  Lucille had to search for the book—the woman had shifted some papers around on the desk and covered it. By the time she found it, the front doors were open and two men were wheeling a gurney into the lobby.

  Things had gone too far—as she’d feared, her mother had overdone things. With the book clutched to her chest, Lucille pushed her way through the crowd toward the sofa where her mother was stretched out, her eyes closed, and her body still.

  For a moment, Lucille panicked, but then she noticed the rise and fall of her mother’s chest. She had to hand it to her—she was giving a great performance. Lucille almost felt like she ought to clap.

  It was at that moment that the administrator looked up and glanced straight at Lucille. Her lips twitched and she screamed, “You can’t take that book. What do you think you’re doing?”

  Lucille figured it was time to hotfoot it out of there. She gestured at Flo, and together they bolted toward the doors, which were mercifully still open. Lucille glanced over her shoulder and saw the EMTs transferring her mother to a gurney while everyone looked on, slack-jawed.

  Theresa never did know when enough was enough.

  It had started to snow while they were inside, and Lucille nearly lost her balance on the slick sidewalk. Flo grabbed her arm to steady her, and they ran toward the Olds. The administrator was standing outside the front door. She was on her cell phone—Lucille figured she was probably calling for backup. They had to move fast.

  “Get in,” she yelled to Flo as she yanked open the door of the Olds.

  Flo tumbled into the passenger seat and Lucille stuck the key in the ignition. She was glad she’d had the smarts to stuff her keys in her pocket and not in her purse, where they’d be lost amid the used tissues, grocery store receipts and little Lucy’s teething biscuits.

  She turned the key and . . . nothing.

  “Try again,” Flo said, pointing at the door, where several employees of New Beginnings were rushing out.

  Lucille turned the key again. Still nothing.

  “We’ve got to get out of here,” Flo said, looking around wildly.

  “She doesn’t want to turn over. I don’t know what the problem is,” Lucille said, trying the key one more time.

  “Come on,” Flo said as the staff of New Beginnings bore down on them, “let’s run.”

  Lucille groaned. She hadn’t run since high school, when Miss Glock made them run around the gym when it was too cold to go outside. She used to fake having her period until Miss Glock caught on and realized that if Lucille was telling the truth, she was having her period every other week.

  “What are we going to do?” Flo looked around frantically.

  The ambulance was still parked in front of New Beginnings—the door to the back bay open and the engine running.

  Lucille grabbed Flo by the arm. “Come on.”

  Flo pulled back. “No. You’re not, Lucille. Are you?”

  “What choice do we got?” She tugged on Flo’s arm.

  “Remember the hearse? And the fire truck?”

  “Yeah? Well, we got away with it, didn’t we?”

  Flo took a deep breath and let it out in a groan. “Okay, I’m in.”

  Flo jumped into the front passenger seat of the ambulance and Lucille took the driver’s seat.

  Flo swiveled around. “They’re bringing your mother out on that gurney.”

  “We’d better hurry then.”

  Lucille released the parking brake, hit the gas, and they shot out of the New Beginnings parking lot and onto Springfield Avenue.

  “What do we do now?” Flo asked.

  Lucille shrugged. “I don’t know. I was concentrating on getting us out of there.”

  “Can we turn on the siren?”

  Lucille looked at Flo. “Are you crazy?”

  “I’ve always wanted to ride in an ambulance with the siren going. But not as the patient,” Flo added hastily. “Definitely not as the patient.” She turned around and looked out the back window. “I wonder how long before they come after us?”

  “The EMTs? I’m guessing they’d have to call the cops first on account of we stole their ride.”

  “Do you hear that?”

  “What?”

  “It sounds like a siren.”

  Lucille’s hands were clammy on the steering wheel. “I don’t hear nothing. You’re making me nervous, Flo.”

  “There—do you hear that now? It’s getting louder. We’ve got to get out of here.”

  Lucille looked at the red light and the line of cars in front of them. People were getting out of work and the streets were clogged with traffic. They were stuck. Unless . . .

  Lucille flipped on the siren.

  The light turned green and cars immediately began moving out of their way. Lucille shot through the hole in the traffic, the siren wailing.

  “That was something, don’t you think?” She glanced at Flo.

  “Yeah. I feel special—like one of those royals over in England or Kim Kardashian.”

  Lucille’s grip on the wheel tightened. “It sounds like the cops are getting closer.”

  “Yeah. We’ve got to ditch this ambulance before they catch up with us. We can leave it in the parking lot at the Old Glory and hop in my Mustang. I should have enough gas to get to your house.”

  Chapter 8

  Lucille barreled into the parking lot of Old Glory, sending loose gravel and bits of b
roken macadam flying. She pulled into an empty space and was a little over the yellow line, but figured what the hell. They had to ditch the ambulance—she didn’t have no time to straighten her out.

  She and Flo shoved open the doors and jumped out, intent on reaching Flo’s Mustang and disappearing into the flow of traffic down Springfield Avenue before the police caught up with them.

  They’d almost reached Flo’s car when someone came running out of Center Stationers toward them. The young man was shouting and waving his hands wildly.

  “Don’t listen to him,” Flo said, grabbing Lucille by the elbow. “Keep going.”

  “Wait,” they heard the young man shout.

  “Maybe he’s in some kind of trouble,” Lucille said, hesitating.

  “Yeah?” Flo tugged on Lucille’s arm. “Well, we’re in some kind of trouble, don’t you think?”

  “Where are you going?” The young man was panting now. “She’s over here.” He turned and pointed toward the open door of Center Stationers.

  “She?” Lucille stopped and turned around.

  He’d finally caught up with them. He wasn’t wearing a coat and puffs of vapor steamed from his mouth as he talked.

  “My wife. She’s having a baby. We’ve got to get her to the hospital.”

  “What? You don’t have no car?” Lucille asked.

  “But, but . . .” the young man stuttered. “You’re the Rescue Squad, right? I called for an ambulance. The baby’s coming any minute now. Hurry. I can’t deliver it myself.”

  Lucille and Flo had no choice but to follow him into the store.

  Lucille took a deep breath. Center Stationers had smelled the same ever since she was a little kid—a combination of newsprint, paper and tobacco.

  A young woman was leaning over the glass counter, clinging to it as if it was a life raft.

  “Don’t just stand there,” Flo hissed in Lucille’s ear. “We’ve got to do something.”

  “What? We’ve only had two kids between us, and it was so long ago I don’t hardly remember much about it.”

  “We can throw her in the bus and take her to the hospital.”

  “What bus? That there’s an ambulance, Flo.”