Charles? Well! Who knew you were such a wuss, Myra Rutledge Martin Sutcliffe, or whatever the hell your married name is.”
“And you think I’m cranky? Ha!”
The screen door banged shut behind the two women. Little Lady was the first to greet them. She nuzzled Myra’s leg, then Annie’s, before she held up a paw in greeting.
“She’s been out and fed, ladies. Good morning! Did you sleep well?” Charles asked cheerfully.
“We did, dear, thank you for asking.” Myra plopped the empty bourbon bottle down on the counter, her eyes defying Charles to comment. He didn’t.
“I’ll wait breakfast for you ladies while you shower. I thought we would have banana macadamia nut pancakes with melted butter and banana syrup, with a side order of Canadian bacon.”
“That certainly sounds better than a bran muffin with decaf coffee,” Annie said. “I hate bran; it makes your stomach expand and growl, and you get gas.”
“Thank you for sharing that, Annie.”
“It’s a standard breakfast in Las Vegas. All I said was, I don’t care for it. I can’t wait, Charles.” And off she went to the staircase at the far end of the kitchen that led to the second floor.
“Is there anything you’d like to share this morning, my love?”
“No, Charles, there isn’t. I’ll be down in half an hour. It looks like it is going to be a nice day, doesn’t it? Annie and I are going to go into town to see Maggie. Do you mind?”
Charles’s eyes twinkled. “And if I did?”
“Too bad,” Myra called over her shoulder as she made her way to the staircase.
The moment Myra was out of sight, Charles’s fist shot in the air. “Yessss.” This was the Myra he knew and loved. Thank God for Annie’s visit. It was just what Myra needed to jolt her out of her funk.
Upstairs, the two women talked back and forth as they prepared for the new day.
“Annie, I told Charles we were going to town to meet up with Maggie. Did I dream that, or did we really make plans to do that?”
“I can’t remember, Myra. It does sound like a plan, though. This might be a good time to tell you I suspect Maggie has a secret. Well, maybe it isn’t a secret, but I had the feeling she was holding back on something. It might have to do with her and Ted, but then again, she might be onto something and just isn’t ready to share. By the way, she doesn’t chew her nails anymore, and she has those acrylic things. Her ring is beautiful, and the nails really show it off. She gets French manicures these days.”
“That’s interesting,” Myra yelled as she stepped into the shower. When she got out ten minutes later, she said, “Let’s not mention your suspicions to Charles, okay?”
“Okay.”
Dressed in summer linen and sandals and smelling like a flower garden, Annie and Myra descended the steps. Little Lady appeared out of nowhere, circled them, sniffed them, then woofed her approval before she trotted back to her babies.
Charles whistled appreciatively as the two women seated themselves at the kitchen table, shook out their napkins, and waited to be served.
Conversation consisted of the weather, with a possible pop-up storm later in the day; the condition of Charles’s vegetable garden, which was nowhere near as wonderful as the one Yoko had on the mountain; falling gas prices; and his decision to write his memoir that would never get published but was something to do during his off-hours.
Breakfast over, Charles said, “Since you ladies are dressed so elegantly, I will do the cleanup today. If you’d like to sit out on the patio, I can bring your coffee to you.”
“Then we’ll have full bladders on the ride to Washington. One must be cognizant of such things at our age, Charles. Thanks, but no thanks,” Annie said. Myra rolled her eyes, and Charles just grinned. Annie was so entertaining, even this early in the morning.
Outside, Annie pointed to the flashy car she had arrived in. “What do you think, Myra, should I buy it?”
“It certainly is sleek-looking. What is it?”
“A Lamborghini. I only took it to piss off the salesman. I could see by the expression on his face that he thought a set of wheels like that would be wasted on an old woman like me. And to add insult to injury, I don’t think he thought I could pay for it. I even had to have my bank call the dealership and tell them I could afford it. Myra, when that weasel came back, he had such respect for me, or should I say for my money, that I wanted to punch him in the nose. I think I’ll take it back and tell him it doesn’t measure up to my demanding standards. I do love it, though.”
The gates opened, and Annie floored the gas pedal. Myra was jolted backward. “This baby goes from zero to sixty in a second. Whatcha think, Myra?”
Holding on for dear life, Myra said, “I think you should get a Volvo station wagon. Slow down, Annie.”
Annie obliged. “You are so negative, Myra. I’m thinking I was built for speed. This is speed!”
“Yes, well, you thought you were a smoking-hot babe, too, and where did that get you?”
“Now, that is one thing you are never going to know. Some things are just way too personal to share, and that’s one of them. I can tell you about it but not give details. Besides, you couldn’t handle the details.”
Somehow, Myra managed to look offended. She sniffed. “Details, Annie, do not interest me.” Hoping to change the subject, she asked, “Do we have a game plan for today?”
Easily diverted, Annie replied, “Not really. I thought we’d play it by ear. Maggie did say that in the summer, the paper pretty much runs itself. All the politicians head off for summer recess, the socialites head for spas around the country, and there is no news to speak of. I think we’re wide open. We could drive to Georgetown, check on Nikki’s house, drive out to where Cosmo and Lizzie live part-time and check that out. Go to lunch and try to pick Maggie’s brain. We could probably go to her house and just hang out. There is absolutely nothing to do in the District in the summer; you know that as well as I do.”
“I’m almost embarrassed to admit this, Annie, but I have never been to the Post. I have no clue how a large newspaper works. If you plan on working at the paper, doing whatever it is you were thinking about, it might be a good idea to have some working knowledge of how the paper makes its way to the street.” At Annie’s grim look, she added, “I’m just saying. You’re the one who said you screwed up at Babylon. With that kind of track record, you should give this some thought.”
Annie muttered something under her breath that Myra was glad she couldn’t hear.
“How fast are you going, Annie? People are looking at us. Are you sure you didn’t steal this car?”
“I am going seventy miles an hour when I should be doing ninety-five in this vehicle. Not that I would ever drive that fast, mind you. The reason people are staring at us is they are green with envy, because this set of wheels costs over two hundred grand.” She ignored Myra’s gasp of shock and said, “No, I did not steal this car. I’ve decided I don’t
