A Marriage Made at Woodstock Read Free Page B

Spooky. Incidentally,” he added, “there’s an orange cat on our windowsill.”
    â€œJust until I get it a good home,” Chandra said. “Ignore it.”
    â€œIt has no tail,” Frederick said.
    â€œ That I can’t do anything about.” The shower door slammed in his face.
    â€¢ • •
    Back at his computer, Frederick paged down his menu of clients to James Bennett, DDS. As the files appeared on the screen, he heard the back door to the kitchen open with a gentle creak.
    Who in hell? he thought, wondering if perhaps Joyce, maddened beyond logic, had come after Chandra with a kitchen knife, a birthday gift no doubt from someone who cared . But it was not Joyce. Before him he saw two women who looked as though they were editors of one of those feminist magazines, The Lesbos Biannual, The Menses Monthly , or maybe Sister Sappho , circulation twenty-eight and growing. They peered at Frederick as if to ask what he was doing there.
    â€œWe did as the paper told us,” said the shorter woman. She was dwarfish, with a long, thick braid trailing down her back. Frederick accepted the paper she handed him. Sukie. Go around to the back and let yourself in , the note said. The door’s unlocked. How many times had he told Chandra to lock the goddamn doors! And what good did it do for him to lock the things when she left such notes upon them? Chandra seemed to think murders couldn’t occur in Maine. Maybe she and Sukie had boycotted them there or something. And why hadn’t he seen the proclamation when he went out for the morning paper? Walter Muller’s upstairs light, Frederick supposed, had garnered all his attention.
    â€œSukie, I presume?” Frederick asked, and balled the second note that day into a perfect salvo. He looked at the windowsill for the cat, but it was gone.
    â€œI’m Halona,” the woman said. “This is Sukie.” A pale, thin creature, looking every bit as tall and anemic as Sukie suggested, peered at Frederick over the other woman’s head.
    â€œChandra’s just getting out of the shower,” he said, and moved in front of the computer monitor to shield Dr. Bennett’s records, as though they were the dentist’s exposed private parts. “Make yourselves at home,” he added sarcastically.
    â€œWhat’s that?” asked Sukie, and pointed at the computer.
    â€œIt’s a computer,” Frederick replied. Good Christ. Had they stepped completely out of the crumply pages of the sixties?
    â€œI mean, what’s all the numbers for?”
    â€œIt’s an accounting package,” said Frederick.
    â€œA computer ,” said Halona, pushing past Sukie and staring wide-eyed. She pointed at the screen. “Is that the game where somebody steals something and you try to catch them?”
    â€œ Game? ” asked Frederick. “This isn’t a game . This is information on one of my clients.” It would be futile, he realized, to explain his work to these women. It was then that Chandra breezed into the room, still buttoning her plaid shirt.
    â€œSorry I’m late,” she said. “Faulty alarm clock.” She threw the sarcasm in Frederick’s direction and then disappeared into the kitchen.
    â€œBy the way,” Frederick said as Chandra appeared again, a yogurt in one hand, spoon in the other. He’d been savoring the moment. “There’s a message from your mother.” He watched the frown appear on her forehead. Sukie and Halona, trained picketers that they were, followed her obediently into the den. Frederick heard the button click, and then the curt message. Lorraine, it’s your mother.
    â€œLorraine?” he heard Sukie’s shrill voice ask. He smiled, delighted.
    â€œMy name before I changed it,” he heard Chandra explain. A minute later the trio was on its way, like a tiny mob, back to the computer room and on out to the kitchen. Frederick