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Authors: Karen Golden
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thought. That’s a favorable-move-to-Indiana point .
She wondered if there could ever be a personal relationship with Mark. She was very attracted to him. He was easy to be around, but he’d said that his cat was jealous of his women friends, so she automatically assumed he had a girlfriend. She wondered about his relationship with Carol Lombard.
Katherine got up and began to get dressed. She imagined shipping seltzer from the Big Apple to the Little Tomato. Why would I want to do that , she thought, daydreaming, when I can have it shipped to the pink house on Lincoln Street?
Chapter Four
The flight to LaGuardia was a roller-coaster ride of bumps, swoops and jolts. The pilot warned they would experience patches of choppy air, and advised passengers and flight attendants to keep on their seatbelts. The scheduled snack was canceled, and no beverages were served.
Katherine clutched the hand rests and felt her wrist muscles cramp. She vowed that if they landed safely in New York, she would not subject her cats to this experience of nerve-fraying fear, but would drive them to Indiana instead.
The plane landed with a heavy thud and raced down the short runway. Katherine looked out the window at the thick fog. Rain pelted the plane, which seemed to take forever to taxi to the main terminal. Once there, Katherine was annoyed at the turtle-like pace of fellow passengers in front of her, who were slowly removing their belongings from the overhead bins. Once off the plane and inside the terminal, Katherine decided she would spend the extra money and take a cab, instead of catching the regular express bus to Grand Central. She walked outside the building and stood in the cab queue. Fortunately only two people were ahead of her.
Inside the cab, she couldn’t find her seat belt and gave up trying. The cab driver wore a red Sikh turban and spoke little English. He floored the accelerator and swerved out onto Grand Central Parkway. On the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway, he veered in and out of lanes.
“Could you slow down,” she shouted over traffic.
“What?” he said, turning around.
“Watch out,” she warned.
“Oh! Ha, ha!” he said, nearly crashing into a service van.
Miraculously, they arrived in Manhattan. The reckless cabby pulled up to Katherine’s apartment building and temporarily double-parked to let her out. Thank God , she thought, relieved to be alive outside her building.
She grabbed her carry-on and stepped out of the car, into a puddle deep enough to cover her shoes. “Just great,” she said irritably, handing the driver the fare. “I’m not tipping you because I think you’re a menace on the highway.” She slammed the door. The driver said, “Oh! Ha, ha!” and peeled out into traffic, splashing the front of Katherine’s coat.
When Mario, the doorman, observed the scene, he ran outside and said, dramatically, “Hey, Katz, do you want me to chase after him and get his medallion number?”
“Not thinkin’ so,” she said, watching the cab speed around the corner, screeching tires.
“Sorry about your coat.” He hurried to the door and opened it for her.
“Oh, Mario,” she said. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome, Marie,” he kidded, deliberately calling her by the wrong name.
“Mar-i-o,” Katherine said, in her feigned Italian accent.
“I hope you don’t mind my asking but . . .” He stopped.
“But, what?” Katherine asked.
“I saw a lot of your red-haired friend this weekend, going in and out, and I wanted to know if she’s hooked up with anyone?”
“Colleen?” she asked nonchalantly.
“Do you think she’d go out with me?”
“What am I running here, a dating service?” she teased. “Why don’t you ask her and see.”
He hesitated, then said, “ I was wondering if you would—”
“Test the waters,” she finished. “Sure—for you, Mario—the world. Listen, buzz me in quick. I haven’t seen my cats since Friday night. I miss them
She wondered if there could ever be a personal relationship with Mark. She was very attracted to him. He was easy to be around, but he’d said that his cat was jealous of his women friends, so she automatically assumed he had a girlfriend. She wondered about his relationship with Carol Lombard.
Katherine got up and began to get dressed. She imagined shipping seltzer from the Big Apple to the Little Tomato. Why would I want to do that , she thought, daydreaming, when I can have it shipped to the pink house on Lincoln Street?
Chapter Four
The flight to LaGuardia was a roller-coaster ride of bumps, swoops and jolts. The pilot warned they would experience patches of choppy air, and advised passengers and flight attendants to keep on their seatbelts. The scheduled snack was canceled, and no beverages were served.
Katherine clutched the hand rests and felt her wrist muscles cramp. She vowed that if they landed safely in New York, she would not subject her cats to this experience of nerve-fraying fear, but would drive them to Indiana instead.
The plane landed with a heavy thud and raced down the short runway. Katherine looked out the window at the thick fog. Rain pelted the plane, which seemed to take forever to taxi to the main terminal. Once there, Katherine was annoyed at the turtle-like pace of fellow passengers in front of her, who were slowly removing their belongings from the overhead bins. Once off the plane and inside the terminal, Katherine decided she would spend the extra money and take a cab, instead of catching the regular express bus to Grand Central. She walked outside the building and stood in the cab queue. Fortunately only two people were ahead of her.
Inside the cab, she couldn’t find her seat belt and gave up trying. The cab driver wore a red Sikh turban and spoke little English. He floored the accelerator and swerved out onto Grand Central Parkway. On the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway, he veered in and out of lanes.
“Could you slow down,” she shouted over traffic.
“What?” he said, turning around.
“Watch out,” she warned.
“Oh! Ha, ha!” he said, nearly crashing into a service van.
Miraculously, they arrived in Manhattan. The reckless cabby pulled up to Katherine’s apartment building and temporarily double-parked to let her out. Thank God , she thought, relieved to be alive outside her building.
She grabbed her carry-on and stepped out of the car, into a puddle deep enough to cover her shoes. “Just great,” she said irritably, handing the driver the fare. “I’m not tipping you because I think you’re a menace on the highway.” She slammed the door. The driver said, “Oh! Ha, ha!” and peeled out into traffic, splashing the front of Katherine’s coat.
When Mario, the doorman, observed the scene, he ran outside and said, dramatically, “Hey, Katz, do you want me to chase after him and get his medallion number?”
“Not thinkin’ so,” she said, watching the cab speed around the corner, screeching tires.
“Sorry about your coat.” He hurried to the door and opened it for her.
“Oh, Mario,” she said. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome, Marie,” he kidded, deliberately calling her by the wrong name.
“Mar-i-o,” Katherine said, in her feigned Italian accent.
“I hope you don’t mind my asking but . . .” He stopped.
“But, what?” Katherine asked.
“I saw a lot of your red-haired friend this weekend, going in and out, and I wanted to know if she’s hooked up with anyone?”
“Colleen?” she asked nonchalantly.
“Do you think she’d go out with me?”
“What am I running here, a dating service?” she teased. “Why don’t you ask her and see.”
He hesitated, then said, “ I was wondering if you would—”
“Test the waters,” she finished. “Sure—for you, Mario—the world. Listen, buzz me in quick. I haven’t seen my cats since Friday night. I miss them
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