you all by name.”
This pleased the women, who began patting their hair and checking their reflections in their pocket mirrors. All except for Lurleen and Faith, that is, who apparently didn’t carry pocket mirrors and were too disappointed to bother to use them in any case. Maria and Carmela seemed to be taking it better, shrugging and chatting animatedly with each other.
“I wonder what’s the matter with Nadine?” asked Cathy, who was seated next to Lucy.
“Probably the flu,” said Lucy. “My friend told me there’s an outbreak. I’ve been taking vitamin C.”
“That’s a good idea,” said Cathy. “I’ll get some. In fact, I’ll get enough for everybody.”
“That’s a great idea,” said Lucy, wishing she’d thought of it. It would have been a good way to rehabilitate her tarnished reputation.
Behind them, the audience members were beginning to file in. Cameramen and other technicians were taking their places and checking their equipment. It was all very casual and seemingly disorganized until suddenly the house lights went down and the familiar theme music came up, and Norah herself appeared, somehow looking larger than life as the audience burst into enthusiastic applause.
“We have a knockout show for you today,” began Norah, listing guests including pop singer Beyoncé, sitcom star Trina Hamilton, and “a special segment on kitchen design—I know you’re going to be interested in that because we all have to cook, right?”
Norah looked right into the camera and gave her signature moue, and the audience burst into laughter; she had them all in the palm of her hand and she hadn’t even announced the free music CDs they’d all be getting.
“But first, I want to introduce our special guests—the winners of the Jolie magazine winter makeover for moms and daughters!”
Here we go, thought Lucy, as the hot spotlights hit them. They were so bright that she wanted to squint but reminded herself to smile instead as Norah approached and hugged her.
“I can’t believe it!” exclaimed the star, standing between Lucy and Elizabeth and holding them by the hand. “These are my neighbors from Tinker’s Cove, in Maine, where I have a summer home. Lucy and Elizabeth Stone.”
To Lucy it sounded as if the audience was applauding madly.
“New York is very different from Tinker’s Cove, isn’t it?”
“It sure is,” said Lucy, suddenly finding herself speechless.
“Are you having a good time?”
“We sure are,” said Lucy, nodding and smiling for all she was worth.
Norah turned to Elizabeth, who had suddenly gone pale. “Me, too,” she managed to squeak, and Norah gave them each a parting hug before moving on. Lucy heard Norah proclaim that Cathy was from Texas, but the rest was a blur as she concentrated on collecting herself. Who would have thought that a brief moment on the small screen would have such an effect? Lucy’s head was swimming, her heart was pounding, her mouth was dry as cotton, and her hands were sweaty. She reached over and took Elizabeth’s hand; it was ice cold. “Whew,” she whispered, hoping they were out of camera range.
“That was intense,” said Elizabeth, also whispering.
The show went to commercials after Norah finished introducing the others—at least that’s what Lucy assumed was going on as Norah settled herself in a chair and was immediately surrounded by hair and make-up technicians who made minute adjustments to her appearance. Sidra also appeared, escorting a nattily dressed man in his mid-fifties and seating him in the guest chair.
Then, Norah was sitting up straighter and talking into a camera.
“Have I got something amazing for you,” she began, introducing a video clip. “Just you watch, you won’t believe this.”
The audience was directed to a series of video monitors that hung from the ceiling where a model was demonstrating a state-of-the-art kitchen. Norah hadn’t overstated the case; the kitchen was equipped with an oven that could hold a dish at refrigerator temperature all day until signaled by telephone to begin cooking and a refrigerator with a digital display that warned when milk and other staples were getting low. When the video was over, Norah introduced her guest, real estate developer Arnold Nelson.
“Now, Arnold, is this stuff for real?” asked Norah. “I mean, I want it, we all want it, don’t we?” The audience, including Lucy, responded by clapping enthusiastically. Norah continued, “But where can we get it?”
“Well, Norah, these are the kitchens that we want to put in our new City Gate Towers, which we hope to build right here in New York on Governors Island.”
Lucy leaned back, half dozing, as Arnold described the luxury condominiums that were going to be located on an island in New York harbor formerly used as a Coast Guard base.
“You’re joshing me! You mean I can actually get a kitchen with all this space-age equipment right now?”
“In a year or two,” answered Arnold, “if things go according to schedule. As you know, a citizens’ committee is currently considering a variety of proposals for the island, and we’re awaiting their recommendations. We certainly hope that City Gate Towers will be part of the final plan.”
A second video began to run showing architects’ drawings of the towers rising from the green and wooded island. The camera appeared to swoop around the towers, showing them in relation to landmarks including the Verrazzano Bridge, the Statue of Liberty, and the skyscrapers of Wall Street.
“That is a magnificent setting,” cooed Norah. “Imagine waking up every morning to that view.”
“And freshly prepared hot coffee, too, at the push of a remote button.”
Norah’s eyes bugged out, and the audience burst into applause.
“Our residents will have the whole city at their feet,” continued Arnold, “but they’ll also have the charm—and the security—of island living. It’s absolutely unparalleled. There’s nothing like it anywhere in the world.”
“Well, sign me up,” gushed Norah. “All that—and remote control coffee. It doesn’t get better than that, does it?”
The audience jumped to their feet, clapping, and the cameras turned to pan them in preparation for another commercial break. Seated once again, Lucy found herself wondering about Norah’s choice of Arnold as a guest. The segment had been little more than an infomercial for his development, but perhaps he was the best they could find as a last-minute substitute for Nadine.
“Do you believe it?” whispered Cathy.
“Some amazing kitchen,” said Lucy, keeping her reservations to herself.
‘No, I mean about Arnold.”
“What about him?”
“He’s Nadine’s husband.”
Lucy considered the implications of this. “At home, everybody knows everybody, but I didn’t expect it to be like that in New York City.”
“It
