The Widows of Eden by George Shaffner Page B

I asked for a tour of the Come Again? Vernon says it’s such a lovely place. I understand that your fiancé’s sister lives on the top floor. Does she receive guests?”
    â€œNot since Bush senior was in the White House, but I can ask.”
    â€œWould you, please? I’d love to meet her.”
    The phrase “home invasion” flashed before my eyes. “Has Mr. Moore told you about Clara? She isn’t much of a conversationalist.”
    â€œOh, don’t worry about that, Wilma. She probably won’t agree to see me anyway.”
    For one split second, I felt like I was talking to Vernon Moore in drag. That was exactly what he would’ve said.
    Just as we were about to exit the motor coach, Hail Mary came running up to the steps and said breathlessly, “Wilma, we have to talk. In private.”
    â€œRight now?”
    â€œThis second. Alone.”
    â€œBut I was about to give Marion a tour of the Come Again.”
    Hail Mary looked up at the Widow Meanwell. “I’m very sorry. We have an emergency and I need Wilma right away. Will you forgive us?”
    â€œOf course, dear. I can tour your house at another time.”
    â€œThat’s very gracious. Thank you.”
    I stepped down and Mary practically dragged me past her Buick, which was still running under the porte-cochere with the driver’s side door open. When we got into the parlor, I said, “Has the sky fallen? Has something happened to Mr. Moore?”
    â€œThe sky has fallen on us, Wilma. Your Fiancé in Perpetuityjust offered your famous lodger seventy-five million dollars to save his life!”
    All of a sudden, I could see myself drowning in a teal and turquoise sea, and I wasn’t even putting up a struggle. My eyes were wide open and tiny little bubbles of air trailed out of my nostrils as I sank listlessly into the murky depths. “How much?” I burbled when I hit bottom.
    Hail Mary repeated the number slowly. “Seventy-five million dollars.”
    â€œThat much? It can’t be!”
    â€œDottie just got the word from Louise Nelson. We’re screwed to the friggin’ wall, Wilma. Again, and by you-know-who.”
    â€œDear Lord! My dear, dear Lord. Are you calling an emergency session of the board?”
    â€œOne’s already scheduled for tomorrow. We’ll need confirmation between now and then. When can you get down to the River House?”
    â€œI’ll grab my pocketbook.” I started toward the den, then stopped. “We can’t tell Clem what we just learned; Mr. Moore either. They’ll clam up and that will be the end of it.”
    â€œThat’s right, Wilma, but find out what you can, and make sure that everybody keeps this deal under wraps. If we thought we were going to have a revolt on our hands before …” Hail Mary gave me a hug. She had never given me a hug before. “Call me as soon as you hear something,” she added. “Please?”
    â€œPlease” wasn’t in her normal lexicon either, but women tend to become more solicitous under stress. The same cannot be said for men!

Chapter 12
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    T HE W IN -W IN I LLUSION
    I BOUGHT MYSELF a brand new Oldsmobile station wagon years ago, but the windshield wipers refused to budge the first time I tried to drive in the rain. Safety-conscious woman that I am, I took my brand-new car back to the dealership in Lincoln as soon as the rain stopped. But when the serviceman turned the little knob next to the steering wheel, the darned things worked just fine. After I received a mannish lecture on the care and operation of modern windshield wipers, I drove all the way home to Ebb, only to discover that the wipers didn’t work the next time it rained. I went straight back to the dealership as soon as it stopped, but you know what happened: the little doodads swept across my windshield in perfect rhythm, like they were hooked up to a metronome. I explained to the