“Just think about it. Consider what you have to gain. Think about looking appealing to your boss and having him ask you out. Dream about what your third or seventh date could be like. Think about all this and I’ll see you tomorrow.” Maggie crossed the room and walked into the hall.
Suddenly the house was silent. Having not heard the front door open, Barbara got up to be sure this crazy woman wasn’t lurking somewhere waiting to pounce or something. “Maggie? Where are you?” She searched the house, but Maggie was nowhere to be found.
Chapter
3
Later that evening, Barbara lay on her bed, the romance novel she had been trying to read now discarded beside her. It had been foolish, she realized, to even try to think about anything besides the weird visit she had had with the ghost of a sort of motherly, utterly charming prostitute. Images had whirled in her brain as she had tossed her uneaten dinner in the trash and methodically washed the dishes and cleaned the kitchen.
She considered what Maggie had said. Her life wasn’t dull, it was just predictable. She went to work five mornings a week, arriving in White Plains, barring car trouble, at almost exactly eight o’clock each morning. Gordon, Watson, Kelly and Wise was a small but elite firm, run by Mark Watson and John Kelly, two aging lawyers, and Steve Gordon, the thirty-five-year-old sexy-looking lawyer for whom Barbara worked. Barbara brought her half-sandwich and salad with her each day and ate her lunch at her desk. Steve Gordon junior, son of one of the founding partners, wasn’t overly dependent on her so Barbara usually left at four-thirty and was home before five.
Most weekends she did odd jobs around her two-story raised ranch. In the summer she mowed the lawn, in the winter she shoveled the driveway. Her kitchen and bathroom floors were clean enough to eat off of, and at the first sign of mildew she attacked her tub and shower with cleansers and brushes. She was an active member of her local church and could be counted to cook and bake for every benefit, chaperone the youth events and join parishioners in holiday visits to local nursing homes.
My life’s not dull. It isn’t. But when was the last time she had been out on a date? Carl Tyndell’s face flashed again through her brain. He was the last, she realized, and that was…She counted on her fingers. Let’s see. Mom got really sick and moved in two years ago and it was a few months before that. Maybe more than a few months. Phew. Had it really been more than three years since she had had a date? Well, after that last debacle, it was just as well. Anyway, she was happy. Wasn’t she?
She thought about Steve. He was almost six feet tall with piercing blue eyes and just enough gray at his temples to be distinguished and sexy. He had a strong jaw, and large hands with slender fingers and well-sculptured nails. Frequently Barbara would find herself watching his hands as he signed the correspondence she typed for him.
Was Maggie right? Barbara sighed and popped an M&M into her mouth from the open bag on her bedside table.
She slept little that night and, the next day since Steve was in court, she typed, arranged and organized several important briefs, two wills and a few mortgage documents. Without too much thought, she opened Steve’s mail, dealt with the items she could handle herself and arranged the others in folders on his desk. She answered the phone, made and confirmed several appointments for her boss and gave him his messages and took copious notes about his responses each time he called in. She nibbled on her American cheese sandwich and salad at lunch and left the office at four thirty-five.
As she drove home, she realized that, although she had thought about her life and the things Maggie had said most of the day, she had made her decision the previous evening. If this whole thing wasn’t an elaborate hoax or some kind of boredom-induced hallucination, she would go along with Maggie, at least for the moment.
When Maggie had walked out of Barbara’s kitchen the previous evening she suddenly found herself back inside the revolving door. She pushed her way to the other side and stepped out, only to find herself walking back through Barbara’s kitchen door.
“I didn’t know whether you’d really be here,” Barbara said as Maggie entered the kitchen.
“This is really disorienting,” Maggie said, rubbing her forehead. The kitchen was different, with two plates on the table, each with a hamburger on a toasted bun, mixed vegetables, and rice. “When am I?”
“That’s an interesting takeoff on the typical question. It’s almost six-fifteen. I wasn’t sure you’d be back.”
“Did we meet last evening or just a few minutes ago?”
“We met yesterday.” Barbara sat at one end of the table and pointed to the second place setting. “I cooked some dinner for you, but I remember you told me you didn’t get hungry. I can put it away and eat it for lunch tomorrow if you don’t want it.”
“This is all new to me, too,” Maggie admitted. “I don’t know exactly what I do and what I don’t.” She sat down and sniffed, enjoying the slightly charcoal smell of the grilled burger in front of her.
“Is this the first time you’ve helped someone?”
Maggie nodded ruefully. “I’m not like Michael Landon in Highway to Heaven. This isn’t my job, you know. It’s just a test to see where I go.”
“I love Highway to Heaven. Michael Landon is so adorable.”
Maggie raised an eyebrow. “Well, it’s good to know you notice things like that.” She picked up the burger and took a bite. “Delicious.”
“Thanks. I did all the cooking for my mother and me until she died. Good wine and good food were her only pleasures toward the end, and I did what I could to make special things for her.”
“Well,” Maggie said, her mouth full, “this is really wonderful.”
Barbara found herself delighted that Maggie liked her cooking. “What does an angel do all day? I mean, what did you do today?”
“I’m certainly not an angel as anyone who knew me in my old profession can tell you. That’s the problem that puts me here with you. And for me, there was no today. I walked out of your kitchen and just walked back in.” She blinked, then took another bite of her burger. “I guess I’ll get used to it. Tell me what’s been happening in the world since I left. Did the O.J. Simpson trial ever end?”
For the next hour Barbara caught Maggie up on what had occurred in the last eight months. Strangely, Barbara realized as she poured coffee for each of them, she had completely accepted the fact that Maggie was dead. She also realized that she hadn’t enjoyed an evening this much in a long time.
“I think it’s time we got down to business” Maggie said as she sipped her coffee. “I’m here to see that you get out, date, have some fun.”
Barbara stretched her legs beneath the table and sighed. “It won’t work. I am what I am.”
“Do I hear self-pity? A bit of ‘poor little me?’”
Barbara sat upright. “Not at all. It’s just that you can’t make something out of nothing.”
“All right, let’s get serious here. Do you have a full-length mirror somewhere?”
“I guess.” Together the two women walked upstairs and into the guest bedroom.
