light settling into evening, the spring air cooling.
As Gladys and Harryâs mother had gotten older, Gladys and Mrs. Weiss had cared for each other; they had a symbiotic relationship that worked well, each doing the things the other could notâMrs. Weiss still had her vision but was lacking strength, and Gladys had plenty of strength but no vision. But when Mrs. Weiss died it was like a light went off in Gladys. Only with their own growing friendship had Bess seen a change in her.
âI had a little shock this afternoon. Youâll think Iâm mad, but I thought I saw Harryâhere in the dining room.â She saw Gladysâs frown and added quickly, âOf course, it wasnât him. It was a trick of the mind.â She looked over at the photograph she had seen reflected in the tray. It was one of her favorites; Harry was facing the camera with his tight, pursed smile. He looked very mysterious, which made it perfect for the tearoom, and she felt silly recalling her earlier panic. âBut never mind that. What did you do this morning?â
But something was off, she realized. There was something wrong with the photograph.
âI did manage to get some dictation done earlier,â Gladys saidâshe wrote advertising copy, from home, for womenâs products.
Bess tried to listen, but she was agitated. She couldnât put her finger on why. âLet me get you another glass of water,â she said, standing up. She wanted to examine the photograph more closely. âKeep talking, I can hear you. Iâll just run into the kitchen.â
âI had a magazine page to do todayâabout soap. You canât imagine how horribly boring it is to find something to say about soap .â Gladys had worked for the agency for so long that her blindness was hardly a disability any longer; her longtime employer, a gentleman in his early seventies, had given her the position at first as a favor to Harry. But she had shown such a knack for a quick turn of phrase that he kept her on.
Bess stared at the photograph. Had something change d ? It didnât appear so. It was still the same Harry, in the same necktie, with the same alluring expression. But something felt different.
It suddenly came to her. It wasnât that the photograph had changed; it was the reflection. In the image she had seen in the tray earlier, Harry had been serious; in the photograph, he was smiling. She felt her whole body begin to tingle. It was a sensation she had experienced only a handful of times in her life, the same electricity she had felt when sheâd had the vision of John Murphy so many years ago.
In the kitchen she found the serving tray she had been using earlier. Mamie had left everything in its proper place, washed and dried, and the silver was sparkling. Taking it back into the dining room, Bess couldnât keep herself from trembling. She was glad Gladys couldnât see her.
âBess?â Gladys called. âAre you all right?â
âIâm . . . I was just looking at this photograph.â Bess tried to remember where she had been standing when sheâd seen the reflection. She had just turned away from Table 8, where Lou had been sitting. She hadnât taken more than a step toward the kitchen when sheâd seen the image in the silver. Standing in front of Table 8 again now, exactly as she had been, with her back to Harryâs photograph, she held up the tray with shaking hands.
In the silver, she could see only the empty papered wall.
She turned around. Harryâs photograph was on the left. It hadnât moved; but from where sheâd been standing when she first saw his face, she saw now that it couldnât have been a reflection from the photograph. The picture was simply hung too far over to catch the mirrored surface of the tray.
So what had she seen, exactly?
âWhich photograph?â
Gladysâs question startled her back to clarity.
As Gladys and Harryâs mother had gotten older, Gladys and Mrs. Weiss had cared for each other; they had a symbiotic relationship that worked well, each doing the things the other could notâMrs. Weiss still had her vision but was lacking strength, and Gladys had plenty of strength but no vision. But when Mrs. Weiss died it was like a light went off in Gladys. Only with their own growing friendship had Bess seen a change in her.
âI had a little shock this afternoon. Youâll think Iâm mad, but I thought I saw Harryâhere in the dining room.â She saw Gladysâs frown and added quickly, âOf course, it wasnât him. It was a trick of the mind.â She looked over at the photograph she had seen reflected in the tray. It was one of her favorites; Harry was facing the camera with his tight, pursed smile. He looked very mysterious, which made it perfect for the tearoom, and she felt silly recalling her earlier panic. âBut never mind that. What did you do this morning?â
But something was off, she realized. There was something wrong with the photograph.
âI did manage to get some dictation done earlier,â Gladys saidâshe wrote advertising copy, from home, for womenâs products.
Bess tried to listen, but she was agitated. She couldnât put her finger on why. âLet me get you another glass of water,â she said, standing up. She wanted to examine the photograph more closely. âKeep talking, I can hear you. Iâll just run into the kitchen.â
âI had a magazine page to do todayâabout soap. You canât imagine how horribly boring it is to find something to say about soap .â Gladys had worked for the agency for so long that her blindness was hardly a disability any longer; her longtime employer, a gentleman in his early seventies, had given her the position at first as a favor to Harry. But she had shown such a knack for a quick turn of phrase that he kept her on.
Bess stared at the photograph. Had something change d ? It didnât appear so. It was still the same Harry, in the same necktie, with the same alluring expression. But something felt different.
It suddenly came to her. It wasnât that the photograph had changed; it was the reflection. In the image she had seen in the tray earlier, Harry had been serious; in the photograph, he was smiling. She felt her whole body begin to tingle. It was a sensation she had experienced only a handful of times in her life, the same electricity she had felt when sheâd had the vision of John Murphy so many years ago.
In the kitchen she found the serving tray she had been using earlier. Mamie had left everything in its proper place, washed and dried, and the silver was sparkling. Taking it back into the dining room, Bess couldnât keep herself from trembling. She was glad Gladys couldnât see her.
âBess?â Gladys called. âAre you all right?â
âIâm . . . I was just looking at this photograph.â Bess tried to remember where she had been standing when sheâd seen the reflection. She had just turned away from Table 8, where Lou had been sitting. She hadnât taken more than a step toward the kitchen when sheâd seen the image in the silver. Standing in front of Table 8 again now, exactly as she had been, with her back to Harryâs photograph, she held up the tray with shaking hands.
In the silver, she could see only the empty papered wall.
She turned around. Harryâs photograph was on the left. It hadnât moved; but from where sheâd been standing when she first saw his face, she saw now that it couldnât have been a reflection from the photograph. The picture was simply hung too far over to catch the mirrored surface of the tray.
So what had she seen, exactly?
âWhich photograph?â
Gladysâs question startled her back to clarity.
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