Read Online Aftershock & Others by F. Paul Wilson - Free Book Online Page B

with it immediately. I hemmed and hawed, feeling guilty for wanting it, but finally I went out and bought myself one.” She beamed. “And believe me, I’ve never regretted it.”
    “God, Helene.”
    “They’re already dead, Denise. I don’t condone abortion any more than you do, but it’s legal and that’s not likely to change. And as long as it stays legal, these poor little things are going to be killed day after day, weeks after week, hundreds and thousands and millions of them. We have no control over that. And buying foet accessories will not change that one way or another. They’re already dead .”
    Denise couldn’t argue on that point. Yes, they were dead, and there was nothing anyone could do about that. But…
    “But where do they sell this stuff? I’ve never once seen it displayed or even advertised.”
    “Oh, it’s in all the better stores, but it’s very discreet. They’re not stupid. Foet may be legal but it’s still controversial. Nobody wants trouble, nobody wants a scene. I mean, can you imagine a horde of the faithful hausfraus from St. Paul’s marching through Bergdorf’s? I mean really! ”
    Denise had to smile. Yes, that would be quite a sight.
    “I guess it would be like the fur activists.”
    “Even worse.” Helene leaned closer. “You know why those nuts are antifur? Because they’ve never had a fur coat. It’s pure envy with them. But foet? Foet is tied up with motherhood and apple pie. It’s going to take a long time for the masses to get used to foet. So until then, the market will be small and select. Very select.”
    Denise nodded. Select. Despite all her upbringing, all her beliefs, something within her yearned to be part of that small, select market. And she hated herself for it.
    “Is it very expensive?”
    Helene nodded. “Especially this shade.” She caressed her bag. “It’s all hand sewn. No two pieces are alike.”
    “And where’d you buy yours?”
    Helene was staring at her appraisingly. “You’re not thinking of starting any trouble, are you?”
    “Oh, no. No, of course not. I just want to look. I’m…curious.”
    More of that appraising stare. Denise wanted to hide behind the settee.
    “You want one, don’t you?”
    “Absolutely not! Maybe it’s morbid on my part, but I’m curious to see what else they’re doing with…foet these days.”
    “Very well,” Helene said, and it occurred to Denise that Helene had never said Very well when she’d lived in Fairfield. “Go to Blume’s—it’s on Fifth, a little ways up from Gucci’s.”
    “I know it.”
    “Ask for Rolf. When you see him, tell him you’re interested in some of his better accessories. Remember that: ‘better accessories.’ He’ll know what you’re looking for.”
     
    Denise passed Blume’s three times, and each time she told herself she’d keep right on walking and find a taxi to take her down to Grand Central for the train back to Fairfield. But something forced her to turn and go back. Just once more. This time she ducked into a slot in the revolving door and swung into the warm, brightly lit interior.
    Where was the harm in just looking?
    When he appeared, Rolf reminded her of a Rudolf Valentino wannabe—stiletto thin in his black pinstripe suit, with plastered-down black hair and mechanical-pencil mustache. He was a good ten years younger than Denise and barely an inch taller, with delicate, fluttery hands, lively eyes, and a barely audible voice.
    He gave Denise a careful up-and-down after she’d spoken the code words, then extended his arm to the right.
    “Of course. This way, please.”
    He led her to the back of the store, down a narrow corridor, and then through a glass door into a small, indirectly lit showroom. Denise found herself surrounded by glass shelves lined with handbags, belts, even watch bands. All made of foet.
    Rolf closed the door behind them.
    “The spelling is adapted from the archaic medical term.”
    “Really?”
    She noticed he didn’t