Authors: Fern Michaels
“You are crying, Myra. Are we saying our girls are ungrateful little shits?”
Myra pondered the question. “Yes, Annie, I think so. I tried to be fair in my heart. They have husbands and lovers who travel the globe with the girls at their sides. At this point, I am not even sure who is married and who isn't other than Nikki and Yoko. Then there is the time difference in different parts of the globe. The worst part was when none of them came for Christmas. You didn't come either, Annie. You all broke my heart that day. Charles and I worked so hard to make it all festive. We decorated and shopped and cooked till we were worn out, and the only guest on Christmas day was Elias. Nellie was recovering, so she couldn't come. It was one of the worst days of my life.”
Annie sniffed and blew her nose. Then she sniffed again. “Did you know Yoko has had two miscarriages? I think it's a rotten shame no one saw fit to tell us.”
“No, I didn't know. How did you find out? That's awful. Harry and Yoko would make wonderful parents. Where are they? Do you know?”
“Maggie told me last night when I stopped at the paper. They were in Israel. It's that Jellicoe thing. Harry goes to train the troops or whatever. Maggie said she thinks they're back at the
dojo,
but she isn't sure. Said no one answers the phone. She thinks they came back because Yoko was so depressed about the miscarriages, and if she got pregnant again, she wanted it to be here in the States. Because Yoko said she wanted to have her baby in Washington. That's all I know.”
“That has to mean they're all in touch with Maggie but not us. What does that tell you, Annie? I don't believe this!” Myra burst into tears again. This time she reached for the bottle and took a healthy gulp. Her throat burning, tears flowing down her cheeks, she said, “Yoko needs a mother figure in her life right now if all that is true. I think we both qualify for that role, Annie. This is unforgivable.”
“You're right, it is unforgivable.”
The bottle changed hands again. “Where do you think Maggie stands, Annie?”
“I don't have a clue. She seemed really happy to see me last night. And she didn't get upset when I told her I was going to work at the paper. What could she say? I own the damn place. She's been calling regularly to check in. She said she did her best to help you when all your friends shut you out. But something was off-key. I had the feeling something is wrong somewhere, and she's trying to deal with it.”
“She did try to help. She really went out on a limb when she published what she called her personal scoop on all those charities. I adore Maggie.”
“Maggie feels as lost as you and I, and she doesn't know what to do about it. We both cried a bit. Myra, do you think it's even remotely possible that the girls were waiting for us to get in touch with them? Like they were taking their cues from us? We did moan and groan about those pardons and what we were going to do with our lives. Is it possible, Myra?”
Myra upended the bottle and gulped. “Anything is possible, I suppose. What do you think, Annie?”
“I would like to believe it. If it's true that Harry and Yoko are back at the
dojo,
all we have to do is pop in and see what's going on.”
“I'm seeing two of you, Annie.”
Annie laughed. “Ha! I can't even see one of you!”
The cats circling the bales of hay purred as they did their best to rub up against the women's legs.
“The bottle's empty,” Annie said.
“So it is. When was the last time you slept in a barn, Annie?”
“When I was ten years old. I loved it. It made me feel so grown up at the time.”
“We're all grown up now, Annie. And we're old in the bargain.”
“Stop raining on our parade, Myra.”
“How long are you staying, Annie?”
“Until I get tired of causing trouble.”
“That long, huh?”
“Maybe longer.”
Myra laughed as she teetered toward an empty stall, Annie and a string of cats behind her.
T
he sun was just creeping over the horizon when Myra opened her eyes to see her farm foreman staring down at her. Her mouth felt as if she had just swallowed a pint of glue. She struggled to sit up. “Good morning, Mr. Jackson.”
“Miss Myra, is everything all right?”
“I don't know yet, Mr. Jackson, I just woke up.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw the empty bourbon bottle and Annie sleeping peacefully. The barn cats appeared and eyed the three of them warily. A second later, with the help of her foreman, Myra was on her feet.
“Wake up, Annie. It's a whole new day, and I do think we have things to do. Annieee!!!!”
“What? What? Is the barn on fire! Stop screaming, Myra! What things do we have to do?”
Myra was busy picking straw out of her hair and off her clothes as the weathered, cranky foreman reached down to pull Annie to her feet. “Take this with you,” he grumbled. “And don't be littering up my barn,” he added, holding out the bourbon bottle.
The warm summer morning greeted them with open arms as the two women made their way to the farmhouse. “I slept like a baby,” Annie said as she brushed at the straw covering her clothes.
“A quart of bourbon will do that to you,” Myra snapped.
“You drank half of it,” Annie snapped back. “Let's not do that again for a long time.”
“That's what you said when we got those damn tattoos on our asses,” Myra said.
“Myra, that was forever ago. Are you always cranky this early in the morning?”
“When I sleep in a barn I am. How are we going to explain this to Charles?”
Annie stopped in her tracks and almost stepped on one of the cats. “Do you have to explain your actions to Charles? Well! Who knew you were such a
wuss,
Myra Rutledge Martin Sutcliffe, or whatever the hell your married name is.”
“And you think I'm cranky? Ha!”
The screen door banged shut behind the two women. Little Lady was the first to greet them. She nuzzled Myra's leg, then Annie's, before she held up a paw in greeting.
“She's been out and fed, ladies. Good morning! Did you sleep well?” Charles asked cheerfully.
“We did, dear, thank you for asking.” Myra plopped the empty bourbon bottle down on the counter, her eyes defying Charles to comment. He didn't.
“I'll wait breakfast for you ladies while you shower. I thought we would have banana macadamia nut pancakes with melted butter and banana syrup, with a side order of Canadian bacon.”
“That certainly sounds better than a bran muffin with decaf coffee,” Annie said. “I hate bran; it makes your stomach expand and growl, and you get gas.”
“Thank you for sharing that, Annie.”
“It's a standard breakfast in Las Vegas. All I said was, I don't care for it. I can't wait, Charles.” And off she went to the staircase at the far end of the kitchen that led to the second floor.
“Is there anything you'd like to share this morning, my love?”
“No, Charles, there isn't. I'll be down in half an hour. It looks like it is going to be a nice day, doesn't it? Annie and I are going to go into town to see Maggie. Do you mind?”
Charles's eyes twinkled. “And if I did?”
“Too bad,” Myra called over her shoulder as she made her way to the staircase.
The moment Myra was out of sight, Charles's fist shot in the air. “Yessss.” This was the Myra he knew and loved. Thank God for Annie's visit. It was just what Myra needed to jolt her out of her funk.
Upstairs, the two women talked back and forth as they prepared for the new day.
“Annie, I told Charles we were going to town to meet up with Maggie. Did I dream that, or did we really make plans to do that?”
“I can't remember, Myra. It does sound like a plan, though. This might be a good time to tell you I suspect Maggie has a secret. Well, maybe it isn't a secret, but I had the feeling she was holding back on something. It might have to do with her and Ted, but then again, she might be onto something and just isn't ready to share. By the way, she doesn't chew her nails anymore, and she has those acrylic things. Her ring is beautiful, and the nails really show it off. She gets French manicures these days.”
“That's interesting,” Myra yelled as she stepped into the shower. When she got out ten minutes later, she said, “Let's not mention your suspicions to Charles, okay?”
“Okay.”
Dressed in summer linen and sandals and smelling like a flower garden, Annie and Myra descended the steps. Little Lady appeared out of nowhere, circled them, sniffed them, then woofed her approval before she trotted back to her babies.
Charles whistled appreciatively as the two women seated themselves at the kitchen table, shook out their napkins, and waited to be served.
Conversation consisted of the weather, with a possible pop-up storm later in the day; the condition of Charles's vegetable garden, which was nowhere near as wonderful as the one Yoko had on the mountain; falling gas prices; and his decision to write his memoir that would never get published but was something to do during his off-hours.
Breakfast over, Charles said, “Since you ladies are dressed so elegantly, I will do the cleanup today. If you'd like to sit out on the patio, I can bring your coffee to you.”
“Then we'll have full bladders on the ride to Washington. One must be cognizant of such things at our age, Charles. Thanks, but no thanks,” Annie said. Myra rolled her eyes, and Charles just grinned. Annie was so entertaining, even this early in the morning.
Outside, Annie pointed to the flashy car she had arrived in. “What do you think, Myra, should I buy it?”
“It certainly is sleek-looking. What is it?”
“A Lamborghini. I only took it to piss off the salesman. I could see by the expression on his face that he thought a set of wheels like that would be wasted on an old woman like me. And to add insult to injury, I don't think he thought I could pay for it. I even had to have my bank call the dealership and tell them I could afford it. Myra, when that weasel came back, he had such respect for me, or should I say for my money, that I wanted to punch him in the nose. I think I'll take it back and tell him it doesn't measure up to my demanding standards. I do love it, though.”
The gates opened, and Annie floored the gas pedal. Myra was jolted backward. “This baby goes from zero to sixty in a second. Whatcha think, Myra?”
Holding on for dear life, Myra said, “I think you should get a Volvo station wagon.
Slow down,
Annie.”
Annie obliged. “You are so negative, Myra. I'm thinking I was built for speed. This
is
speed!”
“Yes, well, you thought you were a smoking-hot babe, too, and where did that get you?”
“Now, that is one thing you are never going to know. Some things are just way too personal to share, and that's one of them. I can tell you about it but not give details. Besides, you couldn't handle the details.”
Somehow, Myra managed to look offended. She sniffed. “Details, Annie, do not interest me.” Hoping to change the subject, she asked, “Do we have a game plan for today?”
Easily diverted, Annie replied, “Not really. I thought we'd play it by ear. Maggie did say that in the summer, the paper pretty much runs itself. All the politicians head off for summer recess, the socialites head for spas around the country, and there is no news to speak of. I think we're wide open. We could drive to Georgetown, check on Nikki's house, drive out to where Cosmo and Lizzie live part-time and check that out. Go to lunch and try to pick Maggie's brain. We could probably go to her house and just hang out. There is absolutely nothing to do in the District in the summer; you know that as well as I do.”
“I'm almost embarrassed to admit this, Annie, but I have never been to the
Post.
I have no clue how a large newspaper works. If you plan on working at the paper, doing whatever it is you were thinking about, it might be a good idea to have some working knowledge of how the paper makes its way to the street.” At Annie's grim look, she added, “I'm just saying. You're the one who said you screwed up at Babylon. With that kind of track record, you should give this some thought.”
Annie muttered something under her breath that Myra was glad she couldn't hear.
“How fast are you going, Annie? People are looking at us. Are you sure you didn't
steal
this car?”
“I am going seventy miles an hour when I should be doing ninety-five in this vehicle. Not that I would ever drive that fast, mind you. The reason people are staring at us is they are green with envy, because this set of wheels costs over two hundred grand.” She ignored Myra's gasp of shock and said, “No, I did not steal this car. I've decided I don't want it, and the price tag is outrageous. You're right, I'm going to get a Volvo station wagon, which means people will still look at us and think we're stupid for driving such a mundane vehicle.”
Myra laughed. “I love you, Annie. Please, don't ever change.”
“I'll try not to. Listen, Myra, on a serious note here. The universe is out of whack. I feel such bad vibes that I can't even describe them. Something, somewhere is going on that involves us. I can't explain it any better than that. You getting any vibes?”
“Well, now that you mention it, yes, I am. I thought it was all due to myâ¦funk, as Charles calls it. What do you think it is, Annie?” Myra asked uneasily. “Do you think it has anything to do with Maggie's demeanor yesterday when you were with her?”
“No, but that capped it for me. I've been feeling this way for about a month. I think that's why I threw caution to the wind at the casino and did what I did, knowing I would have to split afterward. Does that make sense, Myra?”
Myra laughed. “In an Anna de Silva kind of way, it most certainly does.”
When Annie stopped for a traffic light, she turned to face Myra and said, “I think, Myra, we are either at a crossroads in our lives right now or fast coming up to it. And it has an ominous feel to it.”
Myra shivered at the intensity in her friend's voice. She didn't trust herself to speak, so she nodded solemnly.
“One more block, and we'll be at the paper,” Annie said as she cut off a Jeep Cherokee. When she looked in the rearview mirror and saw the single-digit salute the driver offered up, she offered up one herself. “Jerk!”
“Annie, you cut him off.”
“He was just sitting there. When you're in a car, you are supposed to drive it, not sit in it and watch the traffic.”
This was a battle Myra knew she couldn't win. “Thank you for getting me here safe and sound. Charles will appreciate it. One more thing, Annie. You really have to give up those rhinestone boots. They don't go with your outfit. What happened to the sandals you started out with?”
“Didn't you see me change them? You are not the least bit observant. Those sandals accentuate my bunions. The boots don't. So there. Besides, I like making a fashion statement.”
It was another battle Myra knew full well she couldn't win. She waited till Annie turned off the engine, checked everything, then got out of the car.
When Myra and Annie stepped out of the elevator, Maggie's greeting was effusive and lingering. The women gushed, hugged, and linked arms as they walked to Maggie's office. Once inside, Myra and Annie both immediately sensed something off-key. Annie's request for a tour for her and Myra was no sooner out of her mouth than Maggie literally dragged both women out through the newsroom and into the hall. “Just act normal and don't say anything. Just follow my lead,” she hissed.
Perplexed, Myra and Annie managed to make appropriate comments along with a few other mundane observations about the stifling heat outside. Maggie picked up and ran with the comment. “Let's do a picnic. We can go to the park and spread a blanket and chill out. I haven't been on a picnic in ages.” She babbled on and on, saying she knew of a specialty shop near the park that packed a picnic basket and even provided the blanket.
Back in the office, Annie and Myra were told to wait while Maggie changed her clothes to suitable picnic attire. Thirteen minutes later they were outside and headed to Annie's test car.
Settled behind the wheel, Annie turned around and said, “I think you need to tell us what's going on, Maggie. We aren't stupidâwhat's wrong?”
“Nothing. Today I had cabin fever, and I was trying to figure out what to do with myself, then you two showed up.”
Wait till we get to the park to talk,
she silently mouthed.
Her brain working at warp speed, Annie swung around, turned on the powerful engine, and peeled out of the lot onto the street. “Then we are the lucky ones. Do hard-boiled eggs go with the picnic?”
Relief rang in Maggie's voice. “Absolutely. Eggs, fried chicken, potato salad, fresh fruit, cheese, and a bottle of wine along with some to-die-for butter rolls. Soft drinks or iced tea are extra. No charge for the blanket, but you have to return everything in twelve hours. We did an article on the shop for the Sunday section, and their business tripled in a week. Not to worryâfor me, they won't hold us to a reservation. Make a right here, then the next left, and follow it out till you see a big red sign. Polly's Picnic Palace is on the right.” Annie followed Maggie's instructions to the letter and pulled into a tiny lot behind Polly's Picnic Palace.
Maggie hopped out of the luxury car. She leaned in Annie's open window and wagged her finger playfully. “Now don't talk about me while I'm gone.”
Annie and Myra sat like statues, their eyes straight ahead as they tried to figure out what was going on. Don't talk meant don't talk. Both women literally bristled with curiosity.
Ten minutes later, Maggie hopped back into the car, the picnic basket offering up delectable aromas. “The chicken just came out of the fryer. By the time we get to the park, it should be just right to eat with our fingers. They do make the best chicken. I think they put dill in the deviled eggs.” She continued to babble about food and her on-again, off-again metabolism, which continued to baffle her doctor but certainly was not life-threatening.