Thigh High Read Free Page B

“The McHauers sent a tomato aspic—where am I going to find room in the refrigerator for that?—and Mr. Richarme came by with an envelope, and Mrs. Bagnet made her pralines.” Maddy’s black eyes swept the room and lingered on Calista. “I counted ’em, so no one’s going to sneak one. And there is another mouse in the kitchen!”
    â€œOh, dear.” Calista headed for the door Maddy held open.
    â€œYou girls have got to get the exterminator. That is no place to cut corners. Ever since the flood, the little devils have been all over the city, gnawing in the pantry, making me jump, and all you do is catch them….” Maddy’s voice faded as the door closed behind them.
    Hestia turned in surprise as their very first boarder trudged into the room, pulling a carry-on suitcase. “Pootie, you came downstairs! You should have told us you wanted breakfast. All we’ve got is frozen bagels.”
    â€œS’okay.” Pootie DiStefano’s Bronx mumble made it sound like one word.
    â€œWhere are you off to this beautiful morning?” Hestia chirped.
    â€œN’York.”
    â€œOh, but Pootie. Tonight’s our party, you know it is!” Hestia cried.
    Pootie gave her a weary look.
    â€œNow, Pootie, you should try it once,” Hestia said persuasively. “All of New Orleans comes. It’s so much fun. I’m sure you’d like it!”
    â€œNo.” Pootie settled herself at the table and eyed the food balefully.
    â€œMaddy has been cooking day and night,” Hestia continued. “She’s making shrimp étouffée in puff pastry shells. You know that’s your favorite.”
    Pootie visibly wavered for a minute, then shook her head. “Gotta go see my family. But thanks.”
    Tall, stout, taciturn, and middle-aged, she was without vanity or social skills. She smoked until she was hoarse; her once black hair was salt-and-pepper; and Nessa doubted she’d ever applied mascara or dressed in anything except khaki shorts, T-shirts, and sandals. For ten years she had lived in their attic, but even the inquisitive aunts knew nothing about her except that she was Italian and so antisocial she had never, not once, had a visitor of any kind.
    To Nessa, the sight of Pootie grated painfully. She served as a constant reminder of Nessa’s failure.
    Calista returned, and as the kitchen door closed behind her, they could hear Maddy’s voice shouting, “What if the guests see a mouse tonight? Can you imagine? All the fancy ladies shrieking and spilling their drinks on the carpet…?”
    Calista placed a split toasted bagel, cream cheese, and a circle of warm blueberry crumble at Pootie’s elbow. “I caught the mouse,” she announced.
    â€œHorrid little things!” Debbie looked truculent. “I swear I hear them squeaking in the attic at night. The first time I see one in my bedroom, Miss Calista, no one will sleep that night.”
    â€œDon’t worry,” Hestia said. “We’ll be rid of them by the end of the week.”
    Calista took her seat at the head of the table. “Nessa, you were going to tell us about your promotion.”
    â€œThat Woman has held you back.” Hestia’s eyebrows snapped into an angry V at the thought of Stephanie Decker. “She’s jealous of you.”
    â€œI wish she would let me help her with her makeup.” Daniel was frankly distressed. “She’s beige. Just beige. Does she think it’s enough to wear good clothes? Doesn’t she know she needs to be seen, not overlooked?”
    â€œShe’s a woman in a man’s world.” Nessa snapped her napkin open. “She has to be a—”
    â€œBitch?” Pootie asked through a bite of bagel.
    â€œNot a doormat,” Nessa corrected.
    â€œYou’re too kind, Nessa.” Hestia put the spoon in the warm glass pan full of blueberry crumble and passed it