Toots tried to suppress a giggle. “I did you a favor, and you know it.” Jerry had been a skinflint and a lousy kisser to boot.
“You certainly remind me often enough,” Ida snapped back.
“I'm not the one who's always doing the reminding, if memory serves me correctly,” Toots said. If they all lived to the ripe old age of one hundred, Ida would still remind Toots of this so-called indiscretion that had happened so many years ago. Toots and Jerry had shared a brief marriage; then he'd kicked the bucket. He'd been husband number five or six. After eight marriages, it was hard to name them in numerical order. Someday she would do so. She'd match up all her marriage certificates with the death certificates. Maybe she would start a scrapbook. Scrapbooking seemed to be all the rage these days. At least she could claim she'd never been divorced.
“Stop it, both of you. I'm sick of hearing about Jerry. If my memory serves me correctly, and we all know I have the memory of an elephant, Toots said he was a dud in the sack, as well. So, once and for all, Ida, why don't you thank Toots for the favor and be done with it.”
Uncharacteristically, Ida flipped Sophie the single-digit salute. The three of them burst out laughing, which eased the tension immediately. They laughed until tears streamed down their faces. Exhausted from their unexpected hysterics, the trio suddenly became quiet. The only sounds were the occasional cry from a seagull and the noise of the ocean as its waves caressed the dampened, bone-colored sand. A mild breeze carried the scent of wood smoke, doubtlessly left over from a beach bonfire the night before.
Ida looked Sophie directly in the face, her tone as serious as ever. “Can you explain what happened last night? I . . . I don't know when I've been so frightened.”
Sophie glanced at Toots, who shook her head and shrugged her shoulders, as if saying she hadn't a clue how to answer.
“You saw Thomas's ghost. What's to explain?” Sophie asked.
Exasperated, Ida threw her hands up in the air. “And you think I'm just supposed to accept that like it's . . . like it's
normal?
”
“I'm afraid I must agree with Ida. Seeing all those famous stars is one thing. Seeing people we know, especially our dead spouses, well, that's a bit much if you ask me.”
“I didn't ask. I don't know what's got your panties in a knot. You didn't see any of your dead husbands,” Sophie singsonged. “Yet.”
“
Yet
is the right word. Where is this leading? Are we so bored that we have nothing better to do than stir up a bunch of unnecessary trouble just to entertain ourselves?”
Sophie considered her question. “Yes, I think that's exactly what's going on. We're bored, but we've found a way to entertain ourselves. We aren't hurting anyone.” Sophie paused then, considering her words. “Except ourselves, and we're all okay, aren't we?” she challenged.
“When put that way, I suppose we are. But what if, what if we've opened a portal that's not supposed to be opened?” Toots asked. “As in a portal to hell?”
Sophie lit another cigarette, inhaled, then blew out the smoke like Puff, the Magic Dragon. “If that's the case, then we're screwed.”