Read Online Patricia Rockwell - Essie Cobb 04 - Ghosted by Patricia Rockwell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Patricia Rockwell
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cleaned out your closet. Did you go through all of the items you had? I mean, our closets are quite large.”
“They are,” agreed Marjorie. “It’s one of the best parts of our apartments. I can fit so many clothes in mine and I still have lots of storage space at the back.”
“We went through everything. I couldn’t believe all of the stuff I had. So much of it was stuff I had no idea what it was. I actually had almost two dozen brassieres. Can you believe?”
“I have that many if not more,” said Marjorie. “I have some for sweaters, some for backless gowns, some black, some white. I mean, a girl needs a whole variety of bras.”
“Maybe you do, Marjorie,” said Essie, “after all, you probably need a different bra for each man you have your eyes on. But for me, one, maybe two are plenty.”
“So what did you do with your left-over bras?” asked Opal pleasantly.
“I didn’t save them for Marjorie!” cried Essie, slamming her hands down on the table so hard the coffee in all the cups jumped.
“They wouldn’t fit!” replied the feisty redhead next to her. She jutted out her bosom dramatically. “I’m sure your bras would be far too small for me, Essie!”
“Marjorie!” chided Opal, her hand on Marjorie’s arm.
“Oh, don’t worry, Opal. She doesn’t bother me,” said Essie. “I don’t care about having big…uh, boobs. My daughters packed up all the things I didn’t need and my grandsons took it all over and gave it to charity.”
“That’s wonderful!” said Opal, obviously relieved to have the discussion back on pleasant terms.
“Oh!” added Essie. “And they got me an answering machine.”
“I have one of those,” said Marjorie in a mocking voice.
“You’ll love your answering machine, Essie,” said Opal, ignoring Marjorie. “There have been times when I was expecting an important phone call and I simply didn’t want to leave my apartment because I was afraid I’d miss it. Now with an answering machine, you can just go about your business and when you come back, that little red light is there blinking, letting you know that someone has called. It’s very reassuring.” Opal spoke in a calm voice as she was describing the nature of her answering machine. Essie always assumed that she’d used this voice effectively when she was employed as an administrative assistant before she retired.
“It has a lot of buttons,” said Essie, lower lip out as she thought about the device sitting on her end table. “I hate buttons.”
“Oh, Essie,” said Marjorie, obviously forgetting her small disagreement with her pal, “you’ll get used to them. Actually, I agree with Opal. It’s so much fun to come home and find that little red light blinking away.”
“Blinking away!” said a male voice. The women turned and glanced up. The Happy Haven general manager , Felix Federico, was standing beside Essie.
“ What is blinking, Miss Essie?” he intoned in his deep, sonorous voice, his accent emphasizing the vowel in blinking so that it sounded like a romantic love song.
“Oh! Mr. Federico!” sputtered Essie, surprised.
“Felix,” he said softly, placing his hands warmly on both hers and Marjorie’s shoulders. Both women looked sideways up at the tall, swarthy director.
“Felix,” replied Essie, gulping. “Just my answering machine. It has a little red blinking light.”
“Mine too…Felix,” added Marjorie, staring up into his face.
“What would we do?” pronounced Felix Federico dramatically, “without technology? It makes our life, it makes it so much easier …and yet, sometimes…I long for the days when it was more semplice …simpler…when we just spoke to each other, you know, one to one, intimately.” He said this last word tenderly and looked from one woman to another, even sending glances over to Opal and Fay across the table.
“Oh, yes,” agreed Marjorie with a sigh as
“They are,” agreed Marjorie. “It’s one of the best parts of our apartments. I can fit so many clothes in mine and I still have lots of storage space at the back.”
“We went through everything. I couldn’t believe all of the stuff I had. So much of it was stuff I had no idea what it was. I actually had almost two dozen brassieres. Can you believe?”
“I have that many if not more,” said Marjorie. “I have some for sweaters, some for backless gowns, some black, some white. I mean, a girl needs a whole variety of bras.”
“Maybe you do, Marjorie,” said Essie, “after all, you probably need a different bra for each man you have your eyes on. But for me, one, maybe two are plenty.”
“So what did you do with your left-over bras?” asked Opal pleasantly.
“I didn’t save them for Marjorie!” cried Essie, slamming her hands down on the table so hard the coffee in all the cups jumped.
“They wouldn’t fit!” replied the feisty redhead next to her. She jutted out her bosom dramatically. “I’m sure your bras would be far too small for me, Essie!”
“Marjorie!” chided Opal, her hand on Marjorie’s arm.
“Oh, don’t worry, Opal. She doesn’t bother me,” said Essie. “I don’t care about having big…uh, boobs. My daughters packed up all the things I didn’t need and my grandsons took it all over and gave it to charity.”
“That’s wonderful!” said Opal, obviously relieved to have the discussion back on pleasant terms.
“Oh!” added Essie. “And they got me an answering machine.”
“I have one of those,” said Marjorie in a mocking voice.
“You’ll love your answering machine, Essie,” said Opal, ignoring Marjorie. “There have been times when I was expecting an important phone call and I simply didn’t want to leave my apartment because I was afraid I’d miss it. Now with an answering machine, you can just go about your business and when you come back, that little red light is there blinking, letting you know that someone has called. It’s very reassuring.” Opal spoke in a calm voice as she was describing the nature of her answering machine. Essie always assumed that she’d used this voice effectively when she was employed as an administrative assistant before she retired.
“It has a lot of buttons,” said Essie, lower lip out as she thought about the device sitting on her end table. “I hate buttons.”
“Oh, Essie,” said Marjorie, obviously forgetting her small disagreement with her pal, “you’ll get used to them. Actually, I agree with Opal. It’s so much fun to come home and find that little red light blinking away.”
“Blinking away!” said a male voice. The women turned and glanced up. The Happy Haven general manager , Felix Federico, was standing beside Essie.
“ What is blinking, Miss Essie?” he intoned in his deep, sonorous voice, his accent emphasizing the vowel in blinking so that it sounded like a romantic love song.
“Oh! Mr. Federico!” sputtered Essie, surprised.
“Felix,” he said softly, placing his hands warmly on both hers and Marjorie’s shoulders. Both women looked sideways up at the tall, swarthy director.
“Felix,” replied Essie, gulping. “Just my answering machine. It has a little red blinking light.”
“Mine too…Felix,” added Marjorie, staring up into his face.
“What would we do?” pronounced Felix Federico dramatically, “without technology? It makes our life, it makes it so much easier …and yet, sometimes…I long for the days when it was more semplice …simpler…when we just spoke to each other, you know, one to one, intimately.” He said this last word tenderly and looked from one woman to another, even sending glances over to Opal and Fay across the table.
“Oh, yes,” agreed Marjorie with a sigh as
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