Vi Agra Falls

by Mary Daheim

  Judith looked up at the old schoolhouse clock. It was ten minutes to twelve. “I suppose I could,” she replied, “but I have to feed Mother and change clothes. Would twelve-thirty do?”

  “Sure,” Renie agreed. “It’ll give me a head start. See you there.”

  After adding potato chips, fresh cherries, and three sugar cookies to the tray, Judith carried the repast out through the back door to the converted toolshed that served as her mother’s apartment.

  Gertrude Grover was in her usual place, seated in an armchair with a cluttered card table in front of her. “Well, dummy,” she said in greeting, “what’s in that sandwich? It looks like glop to me.”

  “Egg salad,” Judith replied, placing the tray on the card table. “You like it.”

  “I do?” Gertrude glared at her daughter. “You’re just saying that because you know I’m kind of forgetful.”

  “You remember the things you want to remember,” Judith murmured.

  “What? Speak up,” the old lady rasped. “I’m deaf, too.”

  The complaints were so redundant that Judith was immune. “I baked those sugar cookies this morning after I made the guests’ breakfast,” she informed her mother. “I thought it might get too warm to turn the oven on later in the day.”

  Gertrude picked up one of the cookies and studied it with her magnifying glass. “Hunh. Yours never taste like Grandma Grover’s. Now there was a sugar cookie.”

  “Grandma was an excellent baker,” Judith allowed. “She had a special—”

  “As for warm,” Gertrude interrupted, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She pulled at the sleeve of her wool cardigan. “I’m practically a popsicle in this icebox. Didn’t you pay the heating bill?”

  “It must be seventy-five degrees in here, Mother,” Judith said patiently. “Later on today it’ll feel like a greenhouse.”

  “Good,” Gertrude snapped. “Maybe I can grow some new body parts. The originals don’t work so good anymore.”

  “That’s true of us all,” Judith replied. “You seem to forget I’ve got an artificial hip.”

  Gertrude shot her daughter a quizzical look. “You do?”

  Judith ignored the remark and gestured at some mail on the card table. “I see you got your new issue of Reader’s Digest today. It’s very nice of the postman to deliver your mail here instead of putting it in our box on the front porch.”

  “I live here, don’t I?” Gertrude retorted. “If you can call it ‘living’ in this itty-bitty box.”

  There was no point in reminding Gertrude that she’d refused to live under the same roof as Joe Flynn. Judith’s mother hadn’t liked either of her sons-in-law who’d had the temerity to marry her only child.

  “What else did you get?” Judith asked, pointing to a postcard and a couple of circulars.

  “Don’t touch that!” Gertrude cried, taking a swipe at Judith’s hand. “That’s personal stuff. You want me to report you for tampering with the U.S. mail?”

  “Okay, okay,” Judith said hastily. She’d check her mother’s mail later. There had been previous occasions when Gertrude had forgotten to open important mail, or thrown it away. But it wasn’t necessary to squabble over a postcard from somebody who, judging from what little Judith could see of it, had been to Hawaii or Mexico or some other place with a sandy beach. “I’m meeting Renie for lunch on top of the hill,” she said to her mother. “I won’t be gone long. Phyliss is still here, if you need anything.”

  “I don’t need saving,” Gertrude replied, yanking the stem off one of the cherries. “Save me from Phyliss is what I want. All that religious hooey gets me down.” She removed the pit and put it on a paper napkin. “Where’s Dumbcluck?”

  “Joe went to the hardware store,” Judith replied, heading for the door. “He’ll be back soon.”

  “That’s too bad,” Gertrude said. “If he never came back, it’d be fine with me.” Suddenly she smiled. A bit slyly, Judith thought. “It’s a good thing I know people I actually like. They take me out of myself.”

  “Ah…I’m sure they do, Mother,” Judith said, figuring that Gertrude was referring to Carl and Arlene Rankers, who doted on the old lady. “See you later.”

  Inside the house, Judith hurried as fast as her artificial hip would permit up the two flights of stairs that led to the family quarters. She changed clothes quickly, applied more makeup, and combed her newly frosted hair. After a brief word of parting to Phyliss, she got into her Subaru and was backing out of the driveway when someone called her name.

  Braking, she rolled down the window and looked to her left. A blur of crimson and gold dazzled Judith’s eyes. Rushing along the sidewalk in a colorful caftan and slave bracelets from wrist to elbow was Joe’s ex-wife, Vivian Flynn.

  Herself was back.

  2

  So lucky I caught you!” Vivian Flynn exclaimed, displaying considerable cleavage as she leaned down to talk to Judith through the car window. “I arrived fifteen minutes ago. Isn’t this a gorgeous day?”

  Judith felt like saying it had been until Herself appeared. Instead, she tried to smile. “I had no idea you were moving back here. Is this permanent?”

  Vivian grimaced, displaying some cracks and creases in her overly made-up face. “I’m not sure. That depends on my husband.”

  Judith tried not to look surprised. “Your…husband?”

  “Yes,” Vivian replied, “Billy. Billy Buss. We were married last April on the beach by my condo. We had a Hawaiian theme, so we told all our guests to put their gifts for us on lei-away.” She broke out into her too-familiar husky laugh. Vivian sobered suddenly. “Your darling mother didn’t tell you about it?”

  Judith recalled the postcard she’d seen on Gertrude’s card table. “Um…I’m afraid she’s getting rather forgetful.”

  “Of course. But she’s such a sweet little dumpling,” Vivian declared. “I can’t wait to see her.”

  “She’s having lunch right now,” Judith said. “Go ahead, pay her a call. I’m on my way to meet my cousin at Taj Raj.”

  “Oooh! Curry! How wonderful! Why don’t I join you? It’d be a giggle to see Roonie again.”

  “Renie,” Judith corrected, “for Serena. Actually, Renie’s not—”

  “Wait,” Vivian broke in, gesturing at a muscular young man in shorts and tank top who was standing in front of her house, waving his hand. “I must see if we’ve got a problem. I’ll be back in a jiff.”

  As Vivian hurried back down the cul-de-sac, Judith’s shoulders slumped. The moving van had left, so she assumed that the young man who had summoned Herself was some other workman. He led the way into the house while Judith tried to figure out a way to exclude her unwanted company from the lunch date. She could try to call Renie on her cell phone, but neither of the cousins turned their mobiles on unless they were out of town or operating in an emergency mode. Instead, she dialed the restaurant’s number to ask if Mrs. Jones had arrived.

  The manager, Feroze Bai, answered. “Yes, yes,” he informed Judith. “Mrs. Jones is waiting for you to join her.” He chuckled. “Hurry, hurry. She is very hungry, and tells me she is going to eat the menu.”

  “Could she come to the phone?” Judith asked.

  “I shall see,” Feroze replied. “She may want to eat that, too.” He chuckled again.

  Keeping one eye on Herself’s house, Judith waited a full minute before hearing Renie’s voice. “Where the hell are you?” she demanded. “It’s twelve-thirty-six.”

  “We’ve got complications,” Judith explained. “Herself is back and wants to have lunch with us.”

  “What?” Renie screamed into the phone. “Good God, do something! You’re a genius at making up tall tales! Fake your own death, run over her, do anything to avoid having to sit down with that pain-in-the-butt! Where’s Joe?”

  “He had to go back to the hardware store,” Judith said, her eyes on the rearview mirror. “Oh, no, here she comes!”

  “Hit the gas! Reverse out
onto the street! Just do what you have to! I’m not lunching with that ghastly woman!” Renie hung up.

  The good-looking young man had followed Vivian out of the house. To Judith’s amazement, he leaned down to kiss Joe’s ex on the lips, then waved at Judith and started back toward the house.

  “Isn’t Billy a stud?” Vivian said as she got into the passenger seat, reeking of a heavy perfume that made Judith feel like sneezing. “So strong, so handsome, so good to me. He treats me like a queen.”

  “That’s your…new…husband?” Judith asked, calculating that there must be at least a thirty-year age difference.

  “Yes,” Vivian replied, settling her leopard-print Prada handbag in her lap. “He’s a former baseball player. Very athletic. Such moves he can make! If you get what I mean.” She winked, false eyelashes fluttering like tiny bat wings.

  “That’s wonderful,” Judith murmured, turning onto the through street that led to Heraldsgate Avenue.

  “Billy’s originally from Oklahoma,” Vivian said, rearranging the gold bangles on her left arm. “He likes Florida, of course, but he has some unfortunate memories of living there. I told him we’d come back here for the rest of the summer, and if he really wanted to, I’d sell the condo on the gulf and make the move permanent. Naturally, we’d winter somewhere else—Hawaii, the Caribbean, whatever he’d enjoy.”

  The word permanent struck Judith’s brain like a sharp nail. She made an effort to conceal her dismay and changed the subject. “The neighborhood has changed considerably since you were here last,” she informed Herself. “It’s gotten very upscale. The proximity to downtown has attracted all sorts of younger people, many of them with big money from high-tech ventures. We have lots of families, and most of them seem to be rich. Sometimes I feel out of place. The hill is no longer quite as comfortable for those of us who are getting older.”

  If Judith thought she could discourage Herself, she was wrong. “My goodness!” she exclaimed, raking long fingernails through her platinum curls. “It sounds perfect for us. And look at these new businesses and buildings,” she went on as they reached the top of the hill and the terrain became flat. “Boutiques, restaurants, spas, and all sorts of specialty stores! Who wouldn’t want to live here? I can’t wait to go exploring with Billy.”

  “Mmm.” Judith was at a loss for words. They were within a block of Taj Raj. The search was on for a parking spot. “It’s getting overcrowded,” she finally pointed out. “The population has more than doubled in the past few years. People who live on top of the hill have serious problems with water pressure. The sewers are on overload. A heavy rain causes backup that floods basements. And all these condos—not only do they attract more people, but the taller ones cut off views. Our county taxes have skyrocketed.”

  “A spice shop,” Vivian noted. “French, Japanese, Mexican, Thai, and Italian restaurants. I can’t wait until our cars arrive from Florida. That should happen late today or early tomorrow.”

  “Cars?” Judith said, going around the block for a second time after spotting Renie and Bill Jones’s Toyota Camry parked in their insurance agent’s small lot just a few doors down from Taj Raj.

  “We each have one,” Herself replied. “Mine’s the prettiest lavender Bentley Continental GTC you ever could imagine. Billy has an Aston Martin DB9. We got rid of the Cadillac Escalade before we moved. Too bulky, especially for some of these narrow parking stalls.”

  Slowing down as a Mini Cooper appeared to be pulling away from the curb in front of the local tea shop, Judith silently marveled at the expensive vehicles Herself and Billy owned. Years ago, Vivian had made a decent living singing in nightspots around town, but none of her previous husbands—including Joe—had been wealthy. Yet somehow Herself never seemed to have financial woes. There always seemed to be a man in Vivian’s life who was willing to pick up the tab in exchange for her overblown charms.

  The Mini Cooper’s driver apparently was trying to get his car closer to the curb rather than pulling away. The young man at the wheel got out and headed for Moonbeam’s across the street. Judith kept driving.

  “Haven’t we gone by the restaurant a couple of times?” Herself inquired.

  “Yes.” Judith’s eyes darted to both sides of the cross street and down past the intersection. “I told you, parking and traffic have gotten very difficult.”

  Vivian frowned. Or tried to, though Judith noticed that her companion had undergone so much cosmetic surgery that her skin was extremely taut. “This place has a full-service bar, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Judith began the fourth tour of the block. “Maybe I’ll find a handicap space farther up the avenue. I have an official placard because of my artificial hip.”

  “Oh, poor baby!” Vivian cried. “Old age must be very unpleasant.”

  Given that Vivian was at least ten years her senior, Judith had to clamp her mouth shut to keep from saying anything.

  “Aha!” Vivian exclaimed, pointing to a loading zone by the bagel shop. “There you go. Slide right in, as I always say to—”

  “I can’t park there even with my handicapped placard,” Judith snapped. “Besides, there’s a cop standing on the sidewalk.”

  “Stop the car,” Herself ordered. “Let me handle this.”

  “I can’t stop in the middle of the avenue,” Judith argued. “There’s a whole line of traffic behind us.”

  “Just do it.” She uttered her throaty laugh. “You know I have a way with policemen.”

  Judith ignored the innuendo about Joe. She had started to refuse a second time when a trolley pulled away from a bus stop half a block away. She had to wait along with the rest of the vehicles. Vivian sprinted out of the car and sashayed over to the sidewalk, where she practically threw her caftan-clad body against the policeman. Judith recognized him as Darnell Hicks, who had been assigned to the Heraldsgate Hill area off and on for the past several years.

  “Poor Darnell,” she said under her breath as the bus continued down the avenue. There was no choice but to keep up with traffic and come back to collect Herself. Unless, Judith thought with uncharacteristic malice, Darnell arrested Vivian for soliciting.

  It took almost five minutes to get back to where she’d dropped off Vivian. Joe’s ex had drawn a crowd: two women pushing baby strollers, a middle-aged man with a greyhound on a leash, a young couple holding hands, and an elderly woman leaning on a cane had gathered around Vivian and Darnell. They all seemed to be having a good time as Herself gestured expansively and clapped her hands.

  Judith honked just as the small crowd burst into gales of laughter. Apparently Herself hadn’t heard the horn. She was pulling up her long skirt and exhibiting one of her still-shapely legs. A trio of young men stopped in their tracks and joined the rest of the onlookers. Judith honked again.

  No one paid any attention, except for the produce truck behind her car and the SUV behind the truck, whose drivers were now also honking their horns—at her. Flustered, Judith rolled down the passenger window and shouted.

  “Vivian! Vivian! Here! Hurry!”

  Joe’s ex finally looked in Judith’s direction, giggled, and motioned to pull the car into the loading zone. With a heavy sigh, Judith used all of her maneuvering skill to park the car. Darnell came to the sidewalk’s edge, motioning for her to turn to the right, back up, turn a little more to the right, move forward, and reverse until her rear tire touched the curb.

  At last, Judith turned off the engine and realized she was perspiring. “Why,” she asked Darnell, who was standing next to the Subaru, “is it okay for me to park here?”

  The policeman grinned at her. “It’s your reward for not finding any dead bodies lately.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Besides, Mrs. Flynn—I mean, Mrs. Buss—volunteered to sing at the departmental picnic in August. She’s even going to donate several kegs of beer.”

  “Wonderful,” Judith muttered, opening the car door.

  “Kisses on your face!” Herself exclaimed, making loud smac
king noises on her fingertips. “Bye-bye, Darney. Bye-bye, all!” Hips swaying, she moved along the sidewalk at a faster pace than Judith could manage. “Oh, dear,” Vivian murmured, stopping in front of Moonbeam’s. “I forgot—you don’t get around so well anymore. I’ll pretend you’re Potsy.”

  “What?” Judith asked, thinking that if Darnell wanted to find a body, he wouldn’t have to look far if Vivian kept up her not-so-subtle digs.

  “Potsy,” Herself repeated as they waited to cross the street. “Porter, I should say. Billy’s papa. I always called him Potsy. Such a dear, sweet man, but rather feeble in his final days.”

  “Did he live with you?” Judith asked, heading for Taj Raj’s corner location.

  “Of course.” Vivian sounded puzzled. “Those were ten of the happiest months of my life.”

  Judith was reaching for the restaurant door when it practically flew straight at her. “Oh!” she cried, reeling back a step or two. “Look—”

  “Look out yourself, you idiot,” Renie snarled. “Do you realize it’s almost one o’clock?”

  “We got held up,” Judith replied, catching her breath. “Where are you going?”

  “Home,” Renie yelled over her shoulder. “I already ate.” She stalked off toward the insurance agency where her car was parked.

  Herself breezed into the restaurant. “Roonie isn’t in a very pleasant mood,” she remarked, smiling at their host.

  “We were quite late,” Judith said, turning to the always-cheerful Feroze Bai. “Is Mrs. Jones’s table still available, or did she eat that, too?”

  “Ah,” Feroze replied, “I enjoy watching a woman with a hearty appetite. Very enchanting. Come, ladies, I shall direct you to another table. We must tidy up where your charming cousin was seated.”

  All too aware of the mess Renie could make when she ate, Judith kept her eyes focused on Feroze’s broad back. Fortunately, there were several vacant tables this late in the lunch hour. The owner settled Judith and Vivian by a window looking out onto Heraldsgate Avenue.