“Guess what, Unca Beau,” Heather lisped, tugging at my shirt sleeve. “Trade and I are going to get another mommie, and she’s it.” Heather pointed at Amy, who smiled and nodded in return.
“And we get to be in the wedding,” Trade added excitedly. “Amy says we can both have long dresses. Won’t that be neat?”
“It’ll be neat, all right,” I said wearily.
The elevator door closed and we continued going up, all of us.
“How come you stink so bad?” Heather demanded wrinkling her nose.
“It’s a long story,” I said.
They all got off at my floor. Amy showed me her ring, and I gave the bride-to-be a careful peck on the cheek, making sure that neither my clothes nor shoes made physical contact.
“How was dinner?” I asked as I stepped away.
“Terrific,” Amy said.
“Yeah,” Peters added. “Tom even sent over a complimentary bottle of wine. Columbia White Zinfadel.”
“Tom? Who’s Tom?”
“Tom Girvan, the owner. I thought you said you knew him.”
“The person I know is Darlene.”
“She’s his wife,” Peters said. “We met her too. She’s a real kick, isn’t she? And did you know they’re moving down to the waterfront? Better location, I guess.” He turned back to his daughters. “Well, we’d better be going. The kids were just riding down to the lobby with us. Mrs. Edwards will be worried. Go ahead and press the button, Heather.”
In a moment they were gone and I was alone in the elevator lobby. “His wife.“
I said to myself, repeating aloud the words Peters had spoken. “Tom Girvan’s wife. I’m a son of a bitch.”
Once in my apartment, I didn’t bother to turn on any lights. Instead, I went straight to the deck, stripped off my smelly clothes, and left them outside in a heap. Then I went into the bathroom for a long hot shower followed by a longer, hotter Jacuzzi.
So Darlene, the purveyor of pork chop sandwiches, was actually a married lady.
Funny, she never mentioned that. On the other hand, to be fair, I had to admit that I had never asked.
It was probably just as well they were moving to the waterfront. It would help keep me out of trouble.