maybe you're in the bathroom and can't get to the phone quickly." After counting to ten, I hang up.
Evvie claps. "Great. Work on her ego. Maybe she'll get intrigued enough to answer your question."
"Think we should get the girls up here and let them take turns? I'd love to hear how they'd talk to her."
Evvie, always the actress, says, "Don't bother; I can play all their parts." She pretends to hold the phone to her ear. "Listen, you twerp, my name is Ida and just who do you think you are? Call me or else!"
I giggle. "Or else what?"
"I'll huff and puff 'til I blow your house down."
"Wait," I say, knocking my shoulder into hers as we giggle together. "Let me be Sophie." Now I pretend to dial. "Well hello, Linda. Just because you live in that great big house and you have expensive clothes, what makes you think you have any taste? Let me come and be your fashionista." I'm really getting into it now. Waving my arms, I say, "I'll give you fuchsias, and scarlet reds. Gold velvet--I'll make your house sing!"
A timid voice says, "Can I play me?"
We look up at the open kitchen window and the girls are standing there, watching us. They are not smiling. Though Bella is trying to be a good sport.
Evvie and I burst into laughter.
Within seconds they are inside.
Within seconds the room is filled to overflowing.
"How long have you been listening?" I ask, hiccupping, as I try to stop laughing.
Evvie leans down, her arms on the table, her body shaking.
Sophie automatically opens the fridge and peers in.
Bella attempts to find a spot where she might stand.
Ida, half in the hallway, grabs the phone and presses the redial button. "If you're going to imitate me, at least do it right." She speaks into the receiver, her voice haughty and businesslike. "This is Ida Franz of the Gladdy Gold and Associates Detective Agency--"
Ida suddenly stops, in shock. "Someone's on the line!" As if it were on fire, she throws the phone at me while Evvie jumps up to press the speakerphone button on the phone base. Bella tries to move out of the way and at the same time Sophie tries to push past her to get out. Bella is knocked into the open fridge. Sophie tries to grab her as a box of cream cheese, a bag of bagels, and a carton of orange juice drop to the floor.
"Hello? Hello? Is someone there?"
While I'm trying to right the tumbling phone, I yell into the speaker, "Yes, this is Gladdy Gold. Are you Linda?"
The voice answers. "No, I'm her assistant, Marjory. Dr. Silverstone says you've made your point."
Evvie and I look at one another, chagrined.
"If you are available this afternoon at three P.M. she will see you at her home. I assume you know where, that is if you are the owners of that very old, very dirty Chevy that was parked across the street all day yesterday."
"We'll be there," I say.
Evvie and I high-five one another. Bella and Sophie are busy putting the dropped things back in the fridge. Ida, arms crossed, legs akimbo, scowls at us. "You owe me big," she says ominously.
Evvie and I laugh again. And Ida joins in. "Gotcha!"
Bella, clutching a mayonnaise jar she can't find room for adds, "I don't think your car is that ugly."
23
LINDA'S SECRET
L inda Silverstone's assistant, Marjory, leads us through her massive house. Everything looks modern and expensive. And brand-new. Highly polished and spotless, as if no one ever touched any of the furnishings. It seemed as if it had been done by a decorator who intended it to look perfect forever.
Marjory's personal color scheme is dark and rigid. Black hair. Black-rimmed glasses. Black pantsuit and shoes. The only color, a red silk scarf. Her back is ramrod straight. Everything, including her prim expression, says no nonsense allowed here.
Bella and Sophie hold hands, oohing and ahhing at everything they see. Gaping up at the chandeliers. Sliding their shoes along the shiny mosaic entryway.
I am thrilled Evvie agreed to come along. Ida has mixed emotions, I suppose, now that Evvie
Evvie claps. "Great. Work on her ego. Maybe she'll get intrigued enough to answer your question."
"Think we should get the girls up here and let them take turns? I'd love to hear how they'd talk to her."
Evvie, always the actress, says, "Don't bother; I can play all their parts." She pretends to hold the phone to her ear. "Listen, you twerp, my name is Ida and just who do you think you are? Call me or else!"
I giggle. "Or else what?"
"I'll huff and puff 'til I blow your house down."
"Wait," I say, knocking my shoulder into hers as we giggle together. "Let me be Sophie." Now I pretend to dial. "Well hello, Linda. Just because you live in that great big house and you have expensive clothes, what makes you think you have any taste? Let me come and be your fashionista." I'm really getting into it now. Waving my arms, I say, "I'll give you fuchsias, and scarlet reds. Gold velvet--I'll make your house sing!"
A timid voice says, "Can I play me?"
We look up at the open kitchen window and the girls are standing there, watching us. They are not smiling. Though Bella is trying to be a good sport.
Evvie and I burst into laughter.
Within seconds they are inside.
Within seconds the room is filled to overflowing.
"How long have you been listening?" I ask, hiccupping, as I try to stop laughing.
Evvie leans down, her arms on the table, her body shaking.
Sophie automatically opens the fridge and peers in.
Bella attempts to find a spot where she might stand.
Ida, half in the hallway, grabs the phone and presses the redial button. "If you're going to imitate me, at least do it right." She speaks into the receiver, her voice haughty and businesslike. "This is Ida Franz of the Gladdy Gold and Associates Detective Agency--"
Ida suddenly stops, in shock. "Someone's on the line!" As if it were on fire, she throws the phone at me while Evvie jumps up to press the speakerphone button on the phone base. Bella tries to move out of the way and at the same time Sophie tries to push past her to get out. Bella is knocked into the open fridge. Sophie tries to grab her as a box of cream cheese, a bag of bagels, and a carton of orange juice drop to the floor.
"Hello? Hello? Is someone there?"
While I'm trying to right the tumbling phone, I yell into the speaker, "Yes, this is Gladdy Gold. Are you Linda?"
The voice answers. "No, I'm her assistant, Marjory. Dr. Silverstone says you've made your point."
Evvie and I look at one another, chagrined.
"If you are available this afternoon at three P.M. she will see you at her home. I assume you know where, that is if you are the owners of that very old, very dirty Chevy that was parked across the street all day yesterday."
"We'll be there," I say.
Evvie and I high-five one another. Bella and Sophie are busy putting the dropped things back in the fridge. Ida, arms crossed, legs akimbo, scowls at us. "You owe me big," she says ominously.
Evvie and I laugh again. And Ida joins in. "Gotcha!"
Bella, clutching a mayonnaise jar she can't find room for adds, "I don't think your car is that ugly."
23
LINDA'S SECRET
L inda Silverstone's assistant, Marjory, leads us through her massive house. Everything looks modern and expensive. And brand-new. Highly polished and spotless, as if no one ever touched any of the furnishings. It seemed as if it had been done by a decorator who intended it to look perfect forever.
Marjory's personal color scheme is dark and rigid. Black hair. Black-rimmed glasses. Black pantsuit and shoes. The only color, a red silk scarf. Her back is ramrod straight. Everything, including her prim expression, says no nonsense allowed here.
Bella and Sophie hold hands, oohing and ahhing at everything they see. Gaping up at the chandeliers. Sliding their shoes along the shiny mosaic entryway.
I am thrilled Evvie agreed to come along. Ida has mixed emotions, I suppose, now that Evvie
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