home from Chip’s place, the phone wasn’t in its customary spot in a zippered pocket in her purse. That she often spent the night at Chip’s house was a bone of contention between Beatrice and her daughter. Lynn may have been in her forties, but Beatrice’s opinions about “living in sin” weren’t something she kept to herself. Lynn chafed under the criticism, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. Economic necessity dictated that until she was able to find a job, living with her mother was her only real option.
There was the hope that Chip would pop the question, but in terms of living arrangements, he was in much the same boat. His high-priced divorce had left him in a financial bind that would take several years to unravel, and at age fifty, he was back home with his eightysomething recently widowed mother, living in a casita, a former maid’s quarters, that had been built behind his parents’ longtime Paradise Valley home. Chip’s mother didn’t like Lynn’s sleepovers any more than her mother did.
To keep from rocking parental boats, Chip and Lynn, cast in the role of aging, lovestruck teenagers, had little choice but to sneak around. There was no privacy to be had in the small two-story tract home Lynn shared with her mother on West Willows Lane, so she usually went to Chip’s place, arriving after his mother went to bed and leaving early the next morning. Lynn knew that if she left Chip’s place by five-thirty, she could be back home before her own mother went out to the front yard to retrieve the morning newspaper.
It was after Lynn was upstairs in her room that she first discovered that her phone was gone. Lynn had put her keys in her purse and reached for her phone so she could call Chip and tell him she had arrived home safely, but the phone wasn’t anywhere to be found. She had searched the entire bag, digging all the way to the bottom. In the process, she unearthed year-old gas receipts, lint from a clutch of deteriorating tissues, an almost empty compact, and several dead tubes of lipstick. When she turned the emptied carcass over and dumped it onto her bed, a few stray coins came out, but no phone.
Lynn’s next thought—a perfectly logical one—was that in rushing around to come home, perhaps she had left the phone at Chip’s place. When arriving there, she routinely deposited her purse, keys, and cell phone on the entryway table, a place where they’d be easy to find the next morning as she was leaving. She used her mother’s landline to call her own number, thinking if it rang somewhere in his apartment, Chip would hear it and answer. When her phone switched over to voice mail, she dialed Chip’s cell phone.
“It didn’t ring here,” Chip said once she had explained the situation. “Are you sure you had it with you last night?”
“I’m sure.”
“Maybe it’s not turned on,” Chip suggested. “If you accidentally hit the off switch, or if the charge ran down, it wouldn’t ring, and I wouldn’t hear it.”
“I took it off the charger last night when I was heading for your place,” Lynn told him. “It should have had plenty of battery power, and I would have remembered turning it off.”
“Probably fell out in the car somewhere,” he concluded. “Maybe it slipped down between the seats or it’s on the floorboard and slid under the car seat. Have you looked there?”
“Not yet. I called you first. I’ll look there next.”
“Sorry you lost your phone,” he said, “but I’m glad to hear your voice. I miss you already.”
The words made Lynn smile. “I miss you, too,” she replied.
Beatrice emerged from the bedroom in time to hear the last comment. “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” she said. “Isn’t it a little early for the lovebirds to be at it again? Don’t you have something better to do than to stand around whispering sweet nothings?”
While her mother bustled around the kitchen making breakfast, Lynn went into her room and searched
There was the hope that Chip would pop the question, but in terms of living arrangements, he was in much the same boat. His high-priced divorce had left him in a financial bind that would take several years to unravel, and at age fifty, he was back home with his eightysomething recently widowed mother, living in a casita, a former maid’s quarters, that had been built behind his parents’ longtime Paradise Valley home. Chip’s mother didn’t like Lynn’s sleepovers any more than her mother did.
To keep from rocking parental boats, Chip and Lynn, cast in the role of aging, lovestruck teenagers, had little choice but to sneak around. There was no privacy to be had in the small two-story tract home Lynn shared with her mother on West Willows Lane, so she usually went to Chip’s place, arriving after his mother went to bed and leaving early the next morning. Lynn knew that if she left Chip’s place by five-thirty, she could be back home before her own mother went out to the front yard to retrieve the morning newspaper.
It was after Lynn was upstairs in her room that she first discovered that her phone was gone. Lynn had put her keys in her purse and reached for her phone so she could call Chip and tell him she had arrived home safely, but the phone wasn’t anywhere to be found. She had searched the entire bag, digging all the way to the bottom. In the process, she unearthed year-old gas receipts, lint from a clutch of deteriorating tissues, an almost empty compact, and several dead tubes of lipstick. When she turned the emptied carcass over and dumped it onto her bed, a few stray coins came out, but no phone.
Lynn’s next thought—a perfectly logical one—was that in rushing around to come home, perhaps she had left the phone at Chip’s place. When arriving there, she routinely deposited her purse, keys, and cell phone on the entryway table, a place where they’d be easy to find the next morning as she was leaving. She used her mother’s landline to call her own number, thinking if it rang somewhere in his apartment, Chip would hear it and answer. When her phone switched over to voice mail, she dialed Chip’s cell phone.
“It didn’t ring here,” Chip said once she had explained the situation. “Are you sure you had it with you last night?”
“I’m sure.”
“Maybe it’s not turned on,” Chip suggested. “If you accidentally hit the off switch, or if the charge ran down, it wouldn’t ring, and I wouldn’t hear it.”
“I took it off the charger last night when I was heading for your place,” Lynn told him. “It should have had plenty of battery power, and I would have remembered turning it off.”
“Probably fell out in the car somewhere,” he concluded. “Maybe it slipped down between the seats or it’s on the floorboard and slid under the car seat. Have you looked there?”
“Not yet. I called you first. I’ll look there next.”
“Sorry you lost your phone,” he said, “but I’m glad to hear your voice. I miss you already.”
The words made Lynn smile. “I miss you, too,” she replied.
Beatrice emerged from the bedroom in time to hear the last comment. “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” she said. “Isn’t it a little early for the lovebirds to be at it again? Don’t you have something better to do than to stand around whispering sweet nothings?”
While her mother bustled around the kitchen making breakfast, Lynn went into her room and searched
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