Annalisa smiled. The comment was Paul’s attempt at a joke. “I wish you wouldn’t say things like that.”
“What’s wrong with it? He is gay, isn’t he?”
“Someone might hear you. And get the wrong impression.”
Paul looked around the restaurant. “Who?” he asked. “There’s no one here.”
“Billy says he can probably get us Mrs. Houghton’s apartment. It’s supposed to be spectacular — three floors with wraparound terraces — and the building is one of the best in the city.”
The sommelier came to the table. “We’ll have the Bordeaux,” Paul said. He handed over the wine menu and continued to Annalisa, “I still don’t get it. Why do you have to go to a funeral to get this apartment? Isn’t cold hard cash enough?”
“It doesn’t work that way,” Annalisa said, tearing off a small piece of bread. “Apparently, it’s all about who you know. That’s why I’m going.
To meet some of the other residents. Eventually, you’ll have to meet them, too. And when you do, please don’t call anyone a fruit.”
“How much does he charge?” Paul asked.
“Who?”
“This Billy Litchfield character.”
“I don’t know.”
“You hired him and didn’t ask how much he cost?”
“He’s not an object, Paul. He’s a person. I didn’t want to be rude.”
“He’s the help,” Paul said.
“You’re the one with the money. You talk to him,” Annalisa said.
“The help is your area,” Paul said.
“Do we have areas now?”
“We will. When we have children.”
“Don’t tease, Paul.”
“I’m not,” he said. The sommelier returned to the table and made a great show of opening the wine and pouring it into Paul’s glass. Paul tasted it and approved. “By the way, I’ve been thinking about it. Now would be a good time to get started.”
Annalisa took a sip of her wine. “Wow,” she said. “I’m not sure I’m ready.”
“I thought you wanted to have children.”
“I do. I just wasn’t thinking about having one so soon.”
“Why not?” Paul said. “We’ve got plenty of money. And you’re not working.”
“I might go back to work.”
“None of the other wives work,” Paul said. “It’s inconvenient.”
“Says who?” Annalisa asked.
“Sandy Brewer.”
“Sandy Brewer is an ass.” Annalisa took another sip of wine. “It’s not that I don’t want to have a child. But we don’t even have an apartment yet.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Paul said. “You know you’ll get this Mrs.
Houghton’s apartment if you put your mind to it.” He picked up the menu and studied it, absentmindedly patting her hand.
“You’re not going to work today?” James Gooch asked his wife the next morning.
“I told you. I’m going to Mrs. Houghton’s memorial service.”
“I thought you weren’t invited,” James said.
“I wasn’t,” Mindy said. “But when did that ever stop me?”
Upstairs, Philip Oakland knocked on his aunt’s door. Enid greeted him dressed in black slacks and beaded black top. “I saw Sam Gooch yesterday,” she said as they were riding down in the elevator. “He said you had a young lady in your apartment.”
Philip laughed. “What if I did?”
“Who was she?” Enid asked.
“A young lady,” Philip said teasingly. “I was interviewing her.”
“Oh, Philip,” Enid said. “I wish you wouldn’t. You’re getting to an age when you need to be sensible about women.”
The elevator doors opened, and finding Mindy Gooch in the lobby, Enid put aside her concerns about Philip’s love life. Mindy was also dressed in black, causing Enid to suspect that Mindy was going to try to crash Mrs. Houghton’s memorial service. Enid decided to let this pass unnoticed as well. “Hello, Mindy dear,” she said. “Sad day, isn’t it?”
“If you want to look at it that way,” Mindy said.
“Any outside interest in the apartment?” Enid asked casually.
“Not yet. But I’m sure there will be soon,” Mindy replied.
“Don’t forget about our interest,” Enid said pleasantly.
“How can I?” Mindy said. She strode out of the building ahead of Enid and Philip, fuming.
The memorial service was at St. Ambrose Church on Broadway and Eleventh Street. There was a snarl of traffic in front of the entrance; a cacophony of honking horns was followed by the wail of a siren as a police car tried to disperse the traffic.
Mindy put her hands over her ears. “Shut up!” she screamed. After this outburst, she felt a little better. She joined the crowd in front of the church, slowly shuffling their way in. She passed a line of police barricades, behind which stood the usual pack of paparazzi. When she reached the steps, she was stopped by a massive security guard. “Invitation?” he asked.
“I left it at home,” Mindy said.
“Step to the side, please,” the guard said.
“Mrs. Houghton was a very good friend. We lived in the same building,” Mindy said.
The security guard waved more people through, and Mindy took the opportunity to try to sneak in with the group ahead of her. The guard spotted her and stepped in front of her. “Move to the side, ma’am.”
Chastised, Mindy moved a little to her right, where she had the pleasure of seeing Enid and Philip Oakland about to pass her by. At the last second, Enid spotted Mindy and, wiggling through the crowd, touched Mindy on the arm. “By the way, dear, I meant to tell you. Sam was such a help yesterday with my computer. Thank God for young people. We old people couldn’t survive in this technological world without them.”
Before Mindy could respond, Enid moved on, and Mindy’s irritation nearly reached the boiling point. Not only had Enid insulted her by implying that she and Mindy were in the same age category (“old,” Enid had said), but she had cruelly and deliberately left Mindy outside. Enid could have easily brought Mindy into the church, as no one said no to Enid Merle. Enid was what little girls called a fair-weather friend, Mindy thought, and planned to return the favor someday.
Strolling up Eleventh Street, Billy Litchfield spotted Mindy Gooch loitering on the edge of the crowd. Providence, he thought happily. This could be nothing less than a sign from Mrs. Houghton herself that Annalisa Rice was meant to get the apartment. Billy had been hoping to introduce Annalisa to Enid Merle and, through Enid, to make her introduction into One Fifth. But Mindy Gooch, the head of the board, was a much bigger — though less glamorous — fish. Approaching her, Billy couldn’t help thinking, Poor Mindy. She’d been relatively pretty once, but over the years, her features had sharpened and her cheeks had sunk, as if literally eaten away by bitterness. Arranging his face into an appropriately mournful demeanor, he took her hands and kissed her on both cheeks. “Hello, Mindy dear,” he said.
“Billy.”
“Are you going in?” Billy asked.
Mindy looked away. “I thought I might pay my respects.”
“Ah.” Billy nodded, immediately guessing at the truth. There was, he knew, no possibility that Mrs. Houghton would have invited Mindy to her memorial service; although Mindy was the head of the board, Mrs.
Houghton had never mentioned her and most likely had not known, or cared to know, of Mindy’s existence. But Mindy, who was always full of misplaced and determined pride, would have found it necessary to attend in order to cement her status. “I’m waiting for a friend,” he said. “Perhaps you’d like to go in with us.”
“Sure,” Mindy said. Say what you would about Billy Litchfield, she thought, at least he was always a gentleman.
Billy took Mindy’s arm. “Were you very close to Mrs. Houghton?”