Reminding myself that I might have misjudged him, I said, “Was there something you wanted to talk about?”
“Yes, but I think it might be more prudent to have this conversation in your apartment.” He glanced at his watch. “I have an appointment in thirty minutes. Shall we get on with it?”
I decided I hadn’t misjudged him. “By all means,” I muttered. I took my mail and gestured for him to come upstairs. Once we were in the living room, I sat down and said, “I also have plans for the evening,
Gerald, so let’s indeed get on with it.” I didn’t elaborate, in that my plans involved an appointment with a steamy bath and a cozy mystery novel.
“Has Maribeth said anything to you about this Delano character?”
“She said he was an excellent aerobics instructor, that he had developed a program on some kind of muscle toning machine, that he was concerned about her general health.”
Gerald went to the window and stared out for several minutes, his hands clutched behind his back. When he turned around, his face was grim. “I think this guy is trying to pull something. God knows Maribeth is insecure enough to fall for anyone who fawns over her, and that’s what this Jody seems to be doing with his special program and that kind of crap.”
“Maybe he’s taking a genuine interest in her. Maybe he likes her.”
Gerald’s laugh was harshly incredulous. “Maribeth’s mind is sophomoric, and the only thing that intrigues her is the plot of whichever idiotic soap opera she watches these days. She rarely reads a newspaper, much less any news or scientific magazine that might provide the basis of an intelligent exchange. She’s shed a few pounds, but we haven’t been disturbed by a sudden influx of admirers with flowers and champagne. I would imagine she’s responsible for any lack of business you’ve experienced the last two weeks; there’s a proven correlation between customer satisfaction and the physical appearance of the employees.”
“Business has been normal,” I said, allowing an edge of hostility in my voice. “Maribeth’s not the slug you assume her to be. I happen to enjoy her company,
although you obviously don’t. That doesn’t strike me as the basis of an intelligent marriage.”
He sat down beside me, several inches closer than I found comfortable. “Now don’t get me wrong. I must admit I feel sorry for her. When we were first married, she had a reasonable body and a functional mind. She wouldn’t have lasted three days in one of my classes, but she was handling a less rigorous course load and making adequate grades. Art history is not the most challenging field; those with a degree are unsuited for any kind of employment except escorting schoolchildren around museums or lecturing groups of little old ladies.” He crossed his legs and gave me a smile meant to imply neither of us would ever consider such a silly degree. “But as I was saying, she wasn’t all that bad seven years ago. I wasn’t embarrassed to have colleagues to the house for wine and discussion, although Maribeth always hid in the bedroom with a bag of potato chips and a six-pack of soda. Over the last five years, however, she’s deteriorated both mentally and physically, to the point I find it difficult to be with her, to be sexually aroused and find satisfaction. I’m sure you understand what I mean.”
I did, if only because he was leering so hard his eyebrows were likely to fall off his forehead. I moved away from him and said, “Well, she’s doing so well on the Ultima program that she may become her old self once again, and you can start inviting your colleagues over for wine and fascinating discussions of international regulations. I’ve noticed a remarkable change in her since she began the diet.”
“Have you? You’re a very perceptive woman,
Claire, as well as an intensely attractive one. How long have you been a widow?”
“Long enough to handle it quite well. Haven’t you noticed a change in your wife? Joanie and I were commenting on it this afternoon. Maribeth seems much more animated, as though she’s taking more of an interest in life. We thought it was a healthy sign.”
“Oh, she’s animated, all right. She’s also bouncing off the walls like a space cadet. She put a dent in my car the other day because she didn’t realize it was in reverse. I’ve come home and found food charred in the oven because she didn’t remember to turn it off. Hell, she’s liable to burn the house down. It’s to the point that I think it might be best to have her committed for a psychiatric evaluation and a nice quiet rest. The trustee may be a tightfisted old coot, but even he might agree she needs a legal guardian to arrange for treatment and handle her affairs until she’s capable of doing it herself.”
“That’s absurd,” I said coldly. “The diet seems to have an effect on her moods, but surely it’s temporary.” As opposed to his guardianship and her confinement, both of which might be permanent.
“I can provide testimony that she was depressed before she started, and now she’s showing signs of turning manic. I’ve got to leave now, but I do appreciate what interest you’ve shown in Maribeth. She needs friends who are intelligent, sensitive, and so very warm and womanly. If there’s anything I can do to repay you, feel free to call—day or night.”
After another leer, he left me to ponder the question, is there one male on the planet who doesn’t assume all single women are seething with sexual frustration and would therefore be eternally grateful
for a romp on the mattress with absolutely anyone? A long question, true, but worthy of ponder.
Caron called to say that she was having dinner at Inez’s house because Inez’s mother (unlike certain Other People’s Mothers) had bothered to pick up the items on the rotation diet and therefore provide a modicum of encouragement, along with a half cup of low-fat cottage cheese and green beans.
I suggested she convene a grand jury and have me indicted for maternal fraud, but agreed to run by the grocery store and pick up whatever was needed for the seven days of rotation. I did not add that I would buy one-seventh of everything on the list. After I’d hung up, I glumly remembered the list was at the Book Depot. I bribed myself with the promise of a drink and an evening spent steaming through the mystery novel, went downstairs and around the house to the garage, and drove to the store.
I did all that was required to fetch the list, then continued to the grocery store to buy minimal amounts of such goodies as cottage cheese, green beans, beets, and tuna fish packed in water. This particular diet had a life expectancy of one more meal. As I returned to my car, it occurred to me that I was in the vicinity of the Ultima Center and that Joanie Powell had not volunteered to discuss Maribeth’s peculiar behavior with the staff. Maribeth had mentioned there was a family support group meeting that evening, and Gerald had said he had a six-thirty appointment. In a burst of deductive prowess, I decided the meeting was in progress and drove to the center.
The lights were on in the office, but no one appeared after I rapped on the locked door several times. It was obvious my deductive prowess had failed me,
I concluded, as I got back in the car and dug through my purse for my key ring, which had a tendency to burrow like a little mole into the deepest corner. I was about to dump the damn contents on the seat when the door of the fitness center opened and Maribeth and Jody came out. I shamelessly slithered down until my nose was even with the bottom of the car window and rolled down the window a few inches.
“Doesn’t he ever go out of town?” Jody said, his hand toying with the back of her neck. “Once things are resolved, I’d love to have one long, passionate, uninterrupted night with you. We could spend an hour in the hot tub with a bottle of champagne, then do all sorts of creative things in a bed for hours and hours. I know exactly how to please a woman like you … for hours and hours.”
“Oh, Jody,” Maribeth said in a breathless voice, “you shouldn’t say things like that. Someone might overhear you and come to the wrong conclusion about our … friendship. Gerald would use it to prove how unstable I am and put me on the first bus to a sanitarium for a long, long rest. And no matter what you say, you’re still in danger. You need to keep a low profile until they catch him.”
“Oh, baby, when they do, we’re going to have ourselves some kind of celebration.” He put his other hand on the back of her head and kissed her for a long while. When he finally surfaced, his expression was smug. “You’re not crazy. You’re a charmingly unpredictable woman what needs someone to love you and take care of you. You’re blossoming, and I want to be the gardener who tends to you and nurtures every leaf and bud.”
It was pretty barfy, to use Caron’s terminology, but
Maribeth was buying every bit of it. Jody cooed some more botanical metaphors, gave her another long kiss, and walked her to her car. He stayed there until she drove away, and then he went back into the fitness center.
I was not pleased with the would-be gardener and his blossoming rose, but I reminded myself it was none of my business. I sat up, found my key ring, and was preparing to leave when I saw someone moving inside the Ultima office. Keeping the key ring in my hand, where I presumed I could find it when I needed it, I went to the door and knocked.
Sheldon Winder looked through the office window at me as if I’d popped out of a silver saucer. He mouthed something, but I shook my head and pointed at the locked door. After a moment of hesitation, he went through the door in the back of the office and came into the reception area, his brow creased and his eyes narrowed.
Feeling as if I had wobbly antennae, I managed a smile and again pointed at the door. When he’d unlocked it, albeit with reluctance, he mirrored my smile and said, “We close at six o’clock. Perhaps you might come by in the morning?”
“I thought there was a family support meeting tonight,” I said, stepping past him into the reception room. “Maribeth seemed to believe her husband would be here, and although I’m not a member of her family, I wanted to discuss her behavior these days.”
“Tonight? No, I’m afraid you’re mistaken. The family support group meets Wednesday afternoons at five. You’re more than welcome to bring up this problem then.”
He took off his glasses and meticulously cleaned
them with his handkerchief. I suspected it was meant to imply that my visit was over and the door awaited me. Ignoring the message, I said, “This may not be appropriate for a group analysis, and I’d prefer to discuss her problems in private. As long as we’re here, why don’t we sit down for a moment and I’ll explain what concerns me.”
He settled his glasses back on his nose and pursed his lips. “That’s not possible at this time.” He stopped as we both heard a toilet flush in the back of the building. “I’m in the midst of a private physical examination with one of our morbidly obese clients who refused to come into the center during regular hours.”
And I was in the midst of painting the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.
“Dr. Winder,” I said in a low voice, “this will take only a few minutes, and I’m deeply concerned. Maribeth has invested over seven hundred dollars in the program in exchange for ongoing medical supervision, and now I believe she’s having serious side effects that may endanger her health. Her husband may go to court to claim this diet has caused her to become mentally dysfunctional. Surely Ultima doesn’t want bad publicity during its first few weeks of operation. Perhaps your client could read a magazine while we talk?”
His lips tightened briefly, then relaxed into a professional smile. “You’re absolutely right, Mrs. Malloy. I’ll go back to the client and ask her to wait; please make yourself comfortable and I’ll be back shortly with Maribeth’s chart.”
He went through the door, closing it behind him, and after a moment murmured to the unseen client somewhere in the dark halls beyond the office. I studied
the chart on the wall, which in unappetizing detail depicted all areas of the body that could build up slimy yellow deposits of nasty fat and then, according to the fine print, fail to function and result in disability and death. Mildly nauseous, I moved on to framed testimonials of those who’d lost fifty or ninety or more pounds and found a new purpose in life. They’d done so on the Ultima program and were forever indebted to the staff, to say the least. Some of us will read anything.
I was reading the business hours backward through the glass door when Dr. Winder reappeared, a folder in his hand and brusquely asked me to sit beside him in the row of plastic chairs. He flipped through several pages, then said, “She’s on the third stage of the program, an eight-hundred-calorie level, and is doing well. She takes a B complex and a multiple vitamin daily, along with three sustained-release potassium caplets of seventy-five milligrams each and four calcium tablets that total three thousand milligrams. In that the program is a protein-sparing modified fast, we insist the client include two to four protein supplements, which we offer in a variety of flavors. I devised the diet based on my extensive study of nutritional requirements, and I do happen to be a physician. She shouldn’t experience any side effects from this.”
“Well, she is,” I said lamely.
“She may be going through some evolutionary changes due to her success on the program.” He closed the folder and stood up. “I really must not delay my client in the back. If you wish further discussion, please come to the group support meeting on Wednesday. Candice will be pleased to explain what sorts of emotional upheavals may result in those who
suddenly find themselves confronted with a brighter, thinner family member. I think you’ll learn you aren’t the first to feel a little bit jealous or resentful of a friend who’s succeeding.”