Getting Old Is Criminal (21 page)

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It’s a few hours later, and I’ve been pacing in the hallway outside my apartment. From a window I see Philip loading two small suitcases into his trunk. Can Evvie be far behind? I race down the flight of stairs and hurry outside. And there she is, putting a small makeup bag in the trunk. And wearing yet another new outfit. Yikes! I have to 2 0 6 • R i t a L a k i n

stop her before she buys out that shop. Single-handedly she’s supporting the boutique. Their number-one customer.

Evvie is obviously startled to see me.

“Hi, Philip. Hi, Evelyn. Going on a trip?”

At least she has the decency to blush.

“Just a short one.” Evvie busies herself by spreading her new cashmere sweater over the passenger seat.

I assume my annoying, seemingly clueless, sim-pering persona. “North, east, south, or west?”

Philip closes the trunk. “Can’t tell. It’s a surprise.”

I glare at Evvie. “How nice for you. May I have a private moment?”

She wants a private moment like she wants the heartbreak of psoriasis. But she does step away.

Not too far, in case she needs to beat a hasty re-treat.

I run my fingers over the shoulder of the gorgeous two-piece beige linen dress she’s wearing.

“Lovely, simply lovely,” I say for Philip’s benefit.

Then I whisper in her ear. “Shirley Ferguson is having a conniption about how much you’re spending on clothes. So cut it out! This is not a Hollywood movie. You don’t get to keep the wardrobe.”

She pulls away from me and whispers, “All right, but keep your voice down.”

“There’s a lot going on at home. Don’t you even G e t t i n g O l d I s C r i m i n a l • 2 0 7

want to know about your friends? Sophie, especially.”

“Of course I do, but not now.” She can barely stand next to me. She wants desperately to move away. I try to hold her with my stare.

“When?”

“I don’t know.”

Philip beckons her. “We have a bit of a time pressure here,” he calls out.

Evvie starts to move, but I grab her wrist. “Do you know what you’re doing, sis?”

“More than I ever did in my whole damn life.”

She looks at me defiantly.

I’m trying to keep my voice down, but it isn’t easy. “You are way far out of line.”

Evvie pulls away. “Nice chatting with you, Gladys. See you around.”

She sprints away from me and gets into the scarlet red Mercedes convertible. She ties a scarf around her hair and beams a large toothy smile at her Romeo. Still working on the case, is she? And off they go, who knows where. Am I just a wee bit jealous? You bet I am. I was once on a surprise trip. Was it only about a month ago? And I blew it.

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I decide to have lunch, because right now I don’t know what else to do. There aren’t many people in the dining room. Not for lunches. Residents usually take day trips or eat in their compact kitch-enettes in their apartment suites.

2 0 8 • R i t a L a k i n

However, my erstwhile eating companions are present. Drenched in their usual gloomy silence.

They each have a book propped up in front of them. Don’t they ever have a conversation about anything? I sit down and greet them. They murmur back.

“So, what’s everyone reading?”

Seymour holds his paperback up.
Organizing
Your Garage.

Hmmm. Perfect reading for someone who no longer has a garage.

“Anna?”

“It’s a cookbook.”
Recipes for Eating Alone.

For someone who eats with a mob every day, but might as well be eating alone, for all she notices. “Lorraine?”

“
The Fungus Among Us.
As if it’s any of your business. Why do you insist on interrogating us?

You some kind of spy or something?”

Good guess, Lorraine. I almost start to laugh at that one, but her face remains serious. I hope the book isn’t about foot diseases. “Really, what’s it about?”

“Searching for mushrooms in forests.”

Wow. Talk about not living in the here and now.

How can they stand the excitement? This won’t get me anywhere. I make another attempt. “Seen any good movies lately?” I’m almost afraid of what they’ll come up with.

Seymour answers without looking up. “They showed the Hepburn-Tracy one the other night.

G e t t i n g O l d I s C r i m i n a l • 2 0 9

But I saw it when it played originally. So, I didn’t bother.”

“I don’t go to romance movies. They always make me cry,” Anna contributes.

Lorraine ignores me this time.

I play with my roll, pinching it into tiny pieces, as I think of an approach to this grim threesome. I try to read their personalities. It isn’t easy. They don’t talk all that much unless it’s about missing their dead spouses.

I look over to Evvie’s table. Of course she isn’t there. I try not to wonder where she and Philip have gone.

Suddenly I remember a TV movie some years back called
Queen of the Stardust Ballroom.
I decide to try that tack. I ask if anyone remembers it.

“With that lovely actress Maureen Stapleton.”

Lorraine, annoyed, shakes her head. Seymour says its sounds like a female-type movie; he never saw those, only his wife watched.

Not surprisingly, Anna did. “Isn’t that the one about the woman who goes dancing in that famous dance hall in New York and wins a contest?”

Success. “Yes, that’s the one. She was a widow just hanging around feeling sorry for herself, and someone suggested that she should go dancing.” I smile meaningfully. “And she meets a man and falls in love again. They have a wonderful time dancing. And together they win a contest and she is named queen of that ballroom.”

Lorraine looks up from her book. “Now I 2 1 0 • R i t a L a k i n

remember. She goes home that night and drops dead of a heart attack.” She smirks.

Oops. I forgot that part. “But she dies happy,” I say lamely. Since I have their attention for a moment, I don’t intend to lose it. “That wasn’t the point. She realized that as long as she was still alive, there was a life to lead. New adventures.

New feelings. Isn’t it better than shutting oneself off, just letting time go by and not getting the most out of one’s life?”

Losing them again. New tack. I guess it’s time to get personal. “I was widowed, too. I lost so much time when I was wrapped up in my own grief. I wasted all those years and I’m sorry now that I did.”

That holds their interest, somewhat. I reach into my purse and take out the card Hope Watson gave me and place it on the table. “I have the name of a grief therapist nearby. Maybe it’s something the three of you should consider.”

That really gets their attention. And with it, finally, emotions. Though not what I might wish for.

They react as if I tossed a rattlesnake on the table.

“What?” Seymour looks confused, his eyes darting every which way, as if he should make a run for an exit.

Anna’s eyes widen. “What has this got to do with me?”

Lorraine slams her book shut. “You are so nosy!

What business is it of yours how we spend our time?”

G e t t i n g O l d I s C r i m i n a l • 2 1 1

“I’m sorry. I know I’m intruding, but I just hate seeing you sad and living in the past. You’re still here and you hopefully have many years more; why not enjoy them? Surely you don’t think your loved ones would want you to mourn away the rest of your lives? They’d want you to be happy.”

Oh, boy, I am not handling this right. The three of them freeze. Confusion from Seymour, fear from Anna, anger from Lorraine.

Finally, their strongest member, Lorraine, says with a voice of steel, “I think you might consider changing tables. Perhaps you’ll find personalities more suitable to yours elsewhere.”

Dead silence. I’ve only had my salad, and I
was
looking forward to the lamb cassoulet, but I think I’ve overstayed my welcome. My presence is no longer desired. And frankly, I’ve had it with them.

I get up. “I’m truly sorry. I was only trying to help.”

As I leave the dining room, I glance back at my now former table. I can’t believe my eyes. They are having a heated discussion. Actually talking to one another. Well, maybe fury is better than boredom.

Maybe getting mad at me put some excitement into their day.

I remind myself of that comic strip character from many years ago, Mary Worth, who stuck her nose in everybody’s business. An irritating, sappy bore who spoke only in clichés and platitudes.

Like me. Today.

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Boy, did I hate her.

So what am I supposed to do around here if my

“case” has left the premises?

Well, I know one thing I don’t want to do is imagine what Evvie and “Romeo” are up to.

THIRTY-TWO

FALLING IN LOVE AGAIN

E
vvie can’t believe her luck. What a glorious
day. And she’s doing something she’s never
done before, even though she’s lived in Florida
for more than twenty years. She glances over at
Philip, standing at the wheel of this obviously expensive yacht he’s rented. He looks windswept and
gorgeous as they glide down the Intracoastal
Waterways—the ICW, as Philip calls them. The
water seems like jade velvet. It couldn’t be more
perfect.

They pass one awesome waterfront mansion after another. Her jaw drops. It’s amazing, the differences in the way people live in this state. Will she
ever be content going back to Lanai Gardens after
all this? A line from an old song flashes into her
head: “How ya gonna keep ’em down on the farm,
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after they’ve seen Paree.” Perhaps everything is
going to change forever, now that Philip is in her
life. For one brief moment, Evvie lets herself remember she’s supposed to be on a case, that this
man is suspected of murder. But she’s sure now.

She’s spent enough time with him. He’s kind and
loving and cares about other people. She’s watched
for the red flag to come up and warn her, but he
hasn’t made a false move. This man could never
hurt anyone. Alvin Ferguson is wrong. Now, all
she has to do is convince Gladdy. Yes, she’s been
selfish and self-involved. But surely Gladdy can
understand what it’s like to be caught up in passion? She’ll make it up to her once Gladdy understands that this man is a good man. A man Evvie
now dreams she might spend the rest of her life
with.

What a romantic. There’s champagne; dinner is
already on board, waiting to be heated later.

Maybe much later, she grins to herself. We don’t
have to leave the ship, Philip tells her with a sexy,
knowing look. It’s as if she’s living a dream.

Seventy-three years old and she’s never known
such happiness before. And what feelings of love
and passion! Never did she think she deserved
such joy. From her lowly beginnings to this—she’s
come so far.

Philip smiles and waves to her. She waves back
as she lounges in her deck chair sipping the champagne. Soon, she thinks languidly, soon, she’ll be
G e t t i n g O l d I s C r i m i n a l • 2 1 5

in his arms. With the waves rocking them into
careless abandon.

She can hardly wait.

I can die after this, Evvie thinks to herself, and it
would be all right. She is finally living the life she’d
always dreamt of.

She shakes herself and laughs. What a silly, mor-bid thought.

Philip makes his way toward her. “Want to do
some sightseeing? We could really play hooky and
head down to the Keys. Maybe pull into a slip at
the Ocean Reef Club near Key Largo.”

She reaches up for his lips. “I don’t need to see
anything but the look in your eyes.”

He pulls her close. “Ditto.” He kisses her, hard.

Breathless, they come up for air. “Evelyn, dearest,
I can’t wait any longer.”

“Neither can I.”

She feels as if she were in heaven already.