take him seriously? Perhaps he had gained somemuscle, but what man worth his steroids could complain about that?
“Ellie, I would like your Ben to model for me.”
“What?”
“I’ve taken up painting again.”
“Wonderful.”
“Nudes.” Mrs. Melrose stood there, blatantly shaping the air with her hands while she stripped Ben down to the bare bones of light and shadow. “Ellie, three weeks ago a splendid thing happened to me. I joined Fully Female. Now, for the first time in my life, I am in touch with my own sexuality. At age fifty-two I finally see beauty in buttocks. I want to emblazon them upon canvas …”
At that propitious moment the door opened and Mrs. Malloy, with the glow of the evening star in her eyes, ushered in our speaker for the evening. Good grief. I didn’t know whether to laugh or ram Ben’s piece of chocolate madeira down his throat. This weedy chap with the face of a haddock was Mr. Walter Fisher, the undertaker!
“My most abject apologies, ladies and gentlemen.” He bowed, folding in two over the briefcase he clutched to his pin-striped middle. “Just as I was leaving the house I was called out on a job. A Mrs. Huffnagle, taken from us while in the bath. Another case of the accidental immersion of an electrical appliance.”
Oh, my heavens! That haughty matriarch who had swept past me in the waiting room of Fully Female this very afternoon! It seemed such an impertinent death—to be frizzled by a hairdryer or …
My eyes met those of Flo Melrose and Mrs. Bludgett with whom I had not yet shared a word. Some words don’t need to be spoken. They hum in the air. They vibrate. From the way Mr. Fisher said electrical appliance, I knew the ghastly truth.
Through a gap in the chocolate-brown curtains I glimpsed the moonwashed tombstones growing wild in that garden of death. What would be the epitaph on the imperious Mrs. Huffnagle’s stone?
An alligator didn’t ate her .
She was done in by a vibrator .
“What an evening, Mrs. H!”
“All right for you to talk, Mrs. Malloy,” I rounded on her as she pranced into the kitchen on the morning after the Hearthside Guild meeting. Lifting Tam from the high chair, I pressed his sticky face to mine. “My whole life is a lie!”
“If this is one of them born-again confessions, I say wait until the new vicar cuts the ribbon and officially opens the box.”
I ignored Tam’s tugs on my hair. “Contrary to public opinion, I am not Ellie Haskell, success story. I’m a woman drowning in tears and … sweat. My deodorant doesn’t work, my hair’s falling out, my clothes don’t fit, and worst of all, I may be going to prison.”
Eyeing me as though I were Jack the Ripper in drag, Mrs. Malloy removed Tam from my arms.
“Last week in the village square,” I cried wildly, “I was stopped by a woman doing a survey on frozen yogurt.And I lied about my weight. Afterward I nearly phoned our solicitor, Lionel Wiseman, to ask him the penalty for falsification of a legal document, but I was afraid he would tell me I’d get six months, meaning I’d never get caught up with the spring cleaning.”
“Mrs. H, are you trying to make a point?”
“Yes.” I leaned against the washing machine that was still in the middle of the room. “I am admitting defeat as a human being. Even Fully Female can’t help me.”
“Rubbish!” Mrs. Malloy finished wiping my sonny boy’s face and stowed him in the playpen with his sister who was deep in gurgling conversation with the Peter Rabbit mobile. “What I rushed over to tell you was that you did right, Mrs. H, to drag me along to that place. When I got home afterwards, I did me homework. I read Chapter One of the manual, and believe you me, it opened up whole new vistas. As I was lying back in me bubble bath, sipping me Fully Female Formula, it come to me that Walter Fisher wasn’t mine for the taking. I’d have to earn his affections. I’d have to become the docile dove if ever I was to win
“Ellie, I would like your Ben to model for me.”
“What?”
“I’ve taken up painting again.”
“Wonderful.”
“Nudes.” Mrs. Melrose stood there, blatantly shaping the air with her hands while she stripped Ben down to the bare bones of light and shadow. “Ellie, three weeks ago a splendid thing happened to me. I joined Fully Female. Now, for the first time in my life, I am in touch with my own sexuality. At age fifty-two I finally see beauty in buttocks. I want to emblazon them upon canvas …”
At that propitious moment the door opened and Mrs. Malloy, with the glow of the evening star in her eyes, ushered in our speaker for the evening. Good grief. I didn’t know whether to laugh or ram Ben’s piece of chocolate madeira down his throat. This weedy chap with the face of a haddock was Mr. Walter Fisher, the undertaker!
“My most abject apologies, ladies and gentlemen.” He bowed, folding in two over the briefcase he clutched to his pin-striped middle. “Just as I was leaving the house I was called out on a job. A Mrs. Huffnagle, taken from us while in the bath. Another case of the accidental immersion of an electrical appliance.”
Oh, my heavens! That haughty matriarch who had swept past me in the waiting room of Fully Female this very afternoon! It seemed such an impertinent death—to be frizzled by a hairdryer or …
My eyes met those of Flo Melrose and Mrs. Bludgett with whom I had not yet shared a word. Some words don’t need to be spoken. They hum in the air. They vibrate. From the way Mr. Fisher said electrical appliance, I knew the ghastly truth.
Through a gap in the chocolate-brown curtains I glimpsed the moonwashed tombstones growing wild in that garden of death. What would be the epitaph on the imperious Mrs. Huffnagle’s stone?
An alligator didn’t ate her .
She was done in by a vibrator .
“What an evening, Mrs. H!”
“All right for you to talk, Mrs. Malloy,” I rounded on her as she pranced into the kitchen on the morning after the Hearthside Guild meeting. Lifting Tam from the high chair, I pressed his sticky face to mine. “My whole life is a lie!”
“If this is one of them born-again confessions, I say wait until the new vicar cuts the ribbon and officially opens the box.”
I ignored Tam’s tugs on my hair. “Contrary to public opinion, I am not Ellie Haskell, success story. I’m a woman drowning in tears and … sweat. My deodorant doesn’t work, my hair’s falling out, my clothes don’t fit, and worst of all, I may be going to prison.”
Eyeing me as though I were Jack the Ripper in drag, Mrs. Malloy removed Tam from my arms.
“Last week in the village square,” I cried wildly, “I was stopped by a woman doing a survey on frozen yogurt.And I lied about my weight. Afterward I nearly phoned our solicitor, Lionel Wiseman, to ask him the penalty for falsification of a legal document, but I was afraid he would tell me I’d get six months, meaning I’d never get caught up with the spring cleaning.”
“Mrs. H, are you trying to make a point?”
“Yes.” I leaned against the washing machine that was still in the middle of the room. “I am admitting defeat as a human being. Even Fully Female can’t help me.”
“Rubbish!” Mrs. Malloy finished wiping my sonny boy’s face and stowed him in the playpen with his sister who was deep in gurgling conversation with the Peter Rabbit mobile. “What I rushed over to tell you was that you did right, Mrs. H, to drag me along to that place. When I got home afterwards, I did me homework. I read Chapter One of the manual, and believe you me, it opened up whole new vistas. As I was lying back in me bubble bath, sipping me Fully Female Formula, it come to me that Walter Fisher wasn’t mine for the taking. I’d have to earn his affections. I’d have to become the docile dove if ever I was to win
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