The Scoop Read Free Page B

long list of things to do today. You said so yourself last night. All those hoity-toity friends of yours will be here soon. I wouldn’t want them to think you lived like anything but a queen. I’m here at your command. Remember how you taught me to say that after your third husband died?”
    Toots grimaced. She couldn’t remember any such thing, but she nodded anyway.
    Bernice was more friend than employee. When Toots had told her about her friends’ upcoming visit, Bernice wasn’t the least bit thrilled. Not wanting her to feel left out of the swing of things, she’d asked her to help with a few extra chores, hoping it would make her feel included, part of the gang, but instead Bernice acted like she’d been stung by a nasty bunch of bees, then mumbled something about being the hired help.
    “Oh, stop it already! You’re acting like a baby. You don’t have to stick around while the girls are here. I’m sure you have plenty of other activities to occupy your time.” Toots and Bernice both knew this was bullshit. Bernice’s family consisted of a son she hadn’t seen or heard from in four years and was supposedly traveling the world in search of his roots.
    “If you weren’t my employer, I’d tell you to just kiss my wrinkled old ass,” Bernice said with a trace of her old humor.
    “Yeah? And if you weren’t my favorite employee, I’d tell you you’re fired. So there,” Toots shot right back.
    “Did you drink the entire pot of coffee?” Bernice asked.
    “Yep, what’s it to ya?” Toots singsonged. “You the coffee police this morning?”
    “You know I like at least three cups before I start working. Make another pot while I fix myself some toast.”
    “Yes, sir—ma’am!” Toots said, smiling. This was their normal morning routine. Bernice was a bit on the possessive side, though in a good way, when it came to her friendship with Toots. The truth was, Toots knew she’d just lie down and die if Bernice deserted her. She consoled herself that once Bernice got to know the girls on this visit, since they would all be here at once, she’d come around. They’d have plenty of time for gabbing and getting to know each other all over again. Bernice included.
    The phone rang, alarming Toots. She’d learned through eight marriages that early-morning and late-night phone calls never brought good news. She hesitated before answering, then remembered there weren’t any more husbands to bury.
    “Hello?” she said in a brisk voice.
    “Mom, are you really awake at this god-awful hour or just pretending to be?” Abby asked.
    “I could ask you the same question. Knowing you’re on the West Coast probably means you are winding down your night’s work. So what gives? Why are you calling me at this ungodly hour? You’re okay, aren’t you?” Toots asked anxiously.
    “It depends on what you mean by okay. Am I healthy? Yes. Is my mortgage paid? Yes. Is Chester okay? Yes to that, too.” Abby sighed. Chester was the German shepherd that Abby had adopted three years ago on Christmas Day. Abby called her Sweet Baby Love for short. Chester never responded to that endearment.
    Toots knew her daughter, and she knew that she wouldn’t call her at this time of day, or early morning as was the case, unless there was truly something bothering her. “So what’s the problem? Is it a man? If you’ve met another jerk, and he needs to be taken care of, I’ll be on the next flight out.”
    Abby ignored the gibe. “Mom, I just heard some disturbing news. It seems dear old Rag is in trouble. The entire staff knew he had a gambling problem. We just didn’t know to what extent. We had a staff meeting yesterday afternoon. He told us he was putting The Informer up for sale. Said he was tired of working, but we all know it’s to pay off his gambling debts. He spends most weekends in Vegas. I don’t know what I’m going to do for a job. In one of his usual small spiteful moods, he told us one of the conditions to