The Julius House Page 0,5
in her fifties, was putting white lilies on a styrofoam cross. The other, who had very short dark hair and was about ten years younger, seemed to be making a "congratulations on the male baby" bouquet in a blue straw basket shaped like a bassinet. Being a florist was a rites-of-passage occupation, like being a caterer - or a minister.
The women glanced at each other to see who was going to help me, and the dark-haired woman said, "You finish, Ruth, you're almost done." She came forward to help me silently and quickly in her practical Nikes, ready to listen but obviously in a hurry.
"What can I do for you?" she asked.
She had large dark eyes and a pixie haircut. Her face and her whole body were lean. She was beautifully made up and wore bifocals. Her nails were long and oval and covered with clear polish.
"Um. I'm just here for a couple of days, and I suddenly realized my mother's birthday is tomorrow. I'd like to send her some flowers." "From the sunny South," she commented, as she picked up a pad and pen. "What did you have in mind?"
I wasn't used to being so identifiable. Every time I opened my mouth, people knew one thing about me for sure; I wasn't from around here. "Mixed spring flowers, something around forty dollars," I said at random. She wrote that down. "Where are you from?" she asked suddenly, without looking up.
"Georgia."
Her pen stopped for a second.
"Where do you want these sent?"
Uh-oh. I'd walked right into this. If I'd had the brains God gave a goat, I'd have sent the flowers to Amina, but since I'd said they were for my mother, I felt stupidly obliged to send them to my mother. I had sustained a deception all day, and perhaps I was just tired of deceiving. "Twelve-fourteen Plantation Drive, Lawrenceton, Georgia."
She kept writing steadily, and I shed an inaudible sigh of relief. "It's an hour later in Georgia, so I don't know if I can get anything there today," Cindy Bartell pointed out. "I'll call first thing in the morning, and I'll do my best to find someone who can deliver them tomorrow. Will that do?" She looked up, her eyes questioning.
"That'll be fine," I said weakly.
"You have a local number?"
"The Holiday Inn." She was past being pretty; she was striking. She was a good six inches taller than I.
"How'd you want to pay?"
"What?"
"Cash? Credit card? Check?"
"Cash," I said firmly, because that way I wouldn't have to give her my name. I thought I was being crafty.
I'd been watching the blond woman work on the funeral cross; I always like to watch other people do something well. When I looked back at Cindy Bartell, I caught her staring at me. She glanced down at my left hand, but of course my engagement ring was still zipped in my purse. "Do you have relatives here, Miss?"
"No," I said with a bland smile. And I handed over my money.
I am not totally without resources.
As I picked up supper from a fast food restaurant and took it to the Holiday Inn, I wondered why I'd done such a stupid thing. I couldn't come up with a very satisfactory answer. I hadn't given Martin's past life much thought, and I'd been overwhelmed with sudden curiosity. Surely prospective wife number two always wonders about wife number one?
I watched the news as I ate, my book propped up in front of me to occupy my eyes during the ads. It was a relief to be myself after pretending to be someone else all day. While I enjoyed imagining this or that in my head from time to time, sustained deception was another matter.
The knock at my door scared me out of my wits.
No one knew where I was except Amina, and she was in Houston. I pitched the remains of my supper in the trash on my way to the door. I'd put the chain on. Now I opened the door a crack.
Cindy Bartell was standing there looking tense and miserable.
"Hi," I said tentatively.
"Can I come in?"
I had some bad thoughts: "Rejected Wife Murders Bride-to-Be in Motel Room." She interpreted my hesitation correctly. "Whoever you are, I don't mean you any harm," she said earnestly, as embarrassed by the melodrama as I was. I opened the door and stood aside.
"Are you..." She stood in the middle of the floor and twisted her keys around and around. "Are you Martin's new fiancée?"
"Yes," I said, after a moment's