Maya,” said the nurse. “Is everything all right in here?”
“Yes, yes,” Maya said, smiling, her compact little figure all but bouncing toward the doorway. “These fine
ladies, they need what you call the pep talk. You know
Maya, she can give the good pep talk.”
Heather stepped aside as Maya made her exit. “I
hope she wasn’t pestering you,” Heather said to the
cousins, a faintly wary expression lingering on her
face. “Maya’s quite a talker.”
“She’s interesting,” Judith said.
“Yes,” Heather agreed, turning to leave, “but don’t
pay much attention to her. She likes to hear herself talk.”
The nurse departed, closing the door behind her.
“Well?” Judith said. “How much of Maya’s spiel do
you believe?”
“None of it,” Renie replied, lifting lids and looking
dismayed. “It seems we have bath sponge for lunch.”
Judith also examined the meal. Everything was a
pale yellow, including the lettuce leaves in the salad.
“It might be some kind of creamed chicken on . . .
something. Toast?” Judith prodded the gelatinous mass
with her fork. “Hunh. Whatever. We also have pears,
more apple juice, and a big, fat, unattractive cookie
with jaundice-yellow frosting. No wonder I don’t have
much appetite.”
“That makes two of us.” Renie sighed. “I was
starved last night, but Art Huey’s food is always terrific. Today, I feel sort of . . . blah.”
SUTURE SELF
65
“That’s not like you,” Judith remarked. Renie’s appetite was usually boundless. “I suppose it’s natural.
We’ve been through a lot.”
“True,” Renie said as someone knocked on the door
but entered before either cousin could respond.
“Mrs. Flynn and Mrs. Jones?” The man who spoke
was Addison Kirby, who closed the door behind him
and immediately introduced himself. He was hatless,
and wearing a classic trench coat over dark slacks, a
tweed jacket, and a light-brown flannel shirt. “May I?”
“You want to see us?” Judith asked in surprise.
The newspaper reporter gave a curt nod. “It’ll only
take a minute.”
“Okay,” Judith said, puzzled. “Have a seat.”
Addison started to sit down in Judith’s visitor’s
chair, then hesitated. “Are you sure?” he asked, his
penetrating hazel eyes darting from cousin to cousin.
“Positive,” Renie said, draining her apple juice. “I
recognized you out in the hall. Let me say right off,
I’m terribly sorry about your loss. Your wife was a
wonderful actress, and I’ve heard she was a fine person
as well. She always seemed active in helping raise
money for charity.”
