Рита Браун - Wish You Were Here

“Josiah—” Harry never knew what he would say next. She slapped his hand as he reached into one of the wedding invitation boxes. “Government property now.”

“That government governs best which governs least, and this one has its tentacles into every aspect of life, every aspect. Terrifying. Why, they even want to tell us what to do in bed.” He grinned. “Ah, but I forgot you wear a halo on that subject now that you’re separated. Of course, you wouldn’t want to be accused of adultery in your divorce proceeding, so I shall assume yours is virtue by necessity.”

“And lack of opportunity.”

“Don’t despair, Harry, don’t despair. Anyway, you got a great nickname out of ten years of marriage . . . although Mary suits you now, because of the halo.”

“You’re awful sometimes.”

“Rely on it.” Josiah flipped through his mail and moaned, “Ned has given me the compliment of an invoice. Lawyers get a cut of everything, don’t they?”

“Kelly Craycroft calls you Moldy Money.” Harry liked Josiah because she could devil him. Some people you could and others you couldn’t. “Don’t you want to know why he calls you Moldy Money?”

“I already know. He says I’ve got the first dollar I ever made and it’s moldering in my wallet. I prefer to think that capital, that offspring of business, is respected by myself and squandered by others, Kelly Craycroft in particular. I mean, how many paving contractors do you know who drive a Ferrari Mondial? And here, of all places.” He shook his head.

Harry had to agree that owning a Ferrari, much less driving one, was on the tacky side. That’s what people did in big cities to impress strangers. “He’s got the money—I guess he can spend it the way he chooses.”

“There’s no such thing as a poor paving contractor, so perhaps you’re right. Still”—his voice lowered—“so hopelessly flashy. At least Jim Sanburne drives a pickup.” He absentmindedly slapped his mail on his thigh. “You will tell me, of course, who is and who isn’t invited to Child Marilyn’s wedding. I especially want to know if Stafford is invited.”

“We all want to know that.”

“What’s your bet?”

“That he isn’t.”

“A safe bet. They were so close as children, too. Really devoted, that brother and sister. A pity. Well, I’m off. See you tomorrow.”

Through the glass door Harry watched Susan Tucker and Josiah engage in animated conversation. So animated that when finished, Susan leaped up the three stairs in a single bound and flung open the door.

“Well! Josiah just told me you’ve got Little Marilyn’s wedding invitations.”

“I haven’t looked.”

“But you will and no time like the present.” Susan opened the door by the counter and came around behind it.

“You can’t touch that.” Harry removed her gloves as Tucker joyfully jumped on Susan, who hugged and kissed her. Mrs. Murphy watched from her shelf. Tucker was laying it on pretty thick.

“Wonderful doggie. Beautiful doggie. Gimme a kiss.” Susan saw Harry’s hands. “Well, you can’t touch the envelopes either, so for the next fifteen minutes I’ll do your job.”

“Do it in the back room, Susan. If anyone sees you we’re both in trouble. Stafford will be in the one-double-oh zip codes and I think he’s in one-double-oh two three, west of Central Park.”

Susan called over her shoulder on her way to the back room: “If you can’t live on the East Side of Manhattan, stay home.”

“The West Side’s really nice now.”

“It’s not here. Can you believe it?” Susan hollered from the back room.

“Sure, I believe it. What’d you expect?”

Susan came out and put the box under the counter. “Her own son. She’s got to forgive him sometime.”

“Forgiveness isn’t a part of Big Marilyn Sanburne’s vocabulary, especially when it impinges on her exalted social standing.”

“This isn’t the 1940’s. Blacks and whites do marry now and the miscegenation laws are off the books.”

“How many mixed marriages do you know in Crozet?”

“None, but there are a few in Albemarle County. I mean, this is so silly. Stafford’s been married for six years now and Brenda is a stunning woman. A good one, too, I think.”

“Are you going to have lunch with me? You’re the only one left who will.”

“It just seems that way because you’re oversensitive right now. Come on, you’d better get out of here before someone else zooms through the door. You know how crazy Mondays are.”

“Okay, I’m ready. My relief pitcher just pulled in.” Harry smiled. It was nice having old Dr. Larry Johnson to cover the post office from 12:00 to 1:00 so she could take a lunch hour. It was also handy when she had errands to run during business hours. All she had to do was give him a call.

Dr. Johnson held the door for Harry, Susan, and the animals.

“Thank you, Dr. Johnson. How are you today?” Harry appreciated his gentlemanly gesture.

“I’m doing just fine, thank you.”

“Good afternoon, Doctor,” Susan said as Mrs. Murphy and Tucker greeted him with a chorus of purrs and yips.

“Hi, Susan. Good afternoon, Mrs. Murphy. And to you, too, Tee Tucker.” Dr. Johnson reached down to pet Harry’s buddies. “Where are you ladies headed?”

“We’re just trotting up to Crozet Pizza for subs. Thanks for holding down the fort.”

“My pleasure, as always. Have a good lunch,” the retired doctor called after them.

Harry, Susan, Mrs. Murphy, and Tucker strolled down the shimmering sidewalk. The heat felt like a thick, moist wall. They waved at Market and Courtney Shiflett, working in the grocery store. Pewter, Market’s chubby gray cat, indulged in a flagrant display of her private parts right there in the front window. On seeing Mrs. Murphy and Tucker, she said hello. They called back to her and walked on.

“I can’t believe she’s let herself go to pot like that,” Mrs. Murphy whispered to Tucker. “All those meat tidbits Market feeds her. Girl has no restraint.”

“Doesn’t get much exercise either. Not like you.”

Mrs. Murphy accepted the compliment. She had kept her figure just in case the right tom came along. Everyone, including Tucker, thought she was still in love with her first husband, Paddy, but Mrs. Murphy was certain she was over him. Over in capital letters. Paddy wore a tuxedo, oozed charm, and resented any accusation of usefulness. Worse, he ran off with a silver Maine coon cat and then had the nerve to come back thinking Mrs. Murphy would be glad to see him after the escapade. Not only was she not glad, she nearly scratched his eye out. Paddy sported a scar over his left eye from the fight.

Harry and Susan ordered huge subs at Crozet Pizza. They stayed inside to eat them, luxuriating in the air conditioning. Mrs. Murphy sat in a chair and Tucker rested under Harry’s chair.

Harry bit into her sandwich and half the filling shot out the other end. “Damn.”