Free The Deep End by Joy Fielding Page B

the third one this year?”
    “According to Brian, it’s the same guy. Why?”
    Joanne told her about the phone call. “He says I’m next.”
    Much to Joanne’s surprise, Eve burst out laughing. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “Really, I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just that you look so worried.”
    “Well, I
am
worried. Paul’s gone and …”
    “And some crazy phones you and tells you you’re next on his list. I know, I shouldn’t laugh. But do you know how many women he probably called? Half of Long Island, I’ll bet. He’s harmless, Joanne. Guys who get their kicks long distance rarely have the guts to do anything in person. This is some loony who gets his rocks off terrifying women over the phone. Do you have any idea how many sickies there are like that in a city like New York? Probably half the male population. Listen, I’m sure it’s nothing, but if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll tell Brian about it, okay?”
    “I’d appreciate it,” Joanne told her.
    “You don’t have to appreciate it,” Eve smiled, hugging her friend close. “Just don’t worry about it. You haveenough to worry about right now. And tell Lulu not to worry about failing that test. Remind her that I failed everything in high school and that I never would have graduated at all if my mother hadn’t gone to the principal and threatened to send me back the following year if he didn’t pass me.” She laughed, opening the front door. “The power that woman yields! Don’t forget about our tennis lesson tomorrow afternoon,” she called from halfway down the front steps.
    “Meet you in the driveway at nine.” Joanne waved as Eve disappeared inside the house next door.
    “You’ll just have to study harder,” Joanne was saying only minutes later as Lulu helped herself to a second piece of freshly baked cake. “That’s enough, Lulu, we’re eating supper in an hour.”
    “Why’d you make it if we’re not supposed to eat it?” Lulu shoved the corner of the moist lemon cake into her mouth, making no move to wipe up the crumbs that spilled from her bottom lip onto the floor.
    “I made it for dessert.”
    “So, I’ll have some for dessert too.”
    Joanne decided against pursuing the subject. “Maybe we could work out some sort of system that would help you to remember dates.” Lulu’s eyebrows narrowed together, accentuating her enormous brown eyes. “I always remembered the date of the Battle of New Orleans because there was a song about it when I was in high school. ‘In 1814, we took a little trip …,’” she began, then stopped. “Well, I don’t remember all the words, but I always remembered the date. 1814—I bet every kid in school knew it.”
    “Maybe we could ask Michael Jackson to write a song about the Civil War,” Lulu suggested jokingly.
    “That’s not such a bad idea.”
    “Life isn’t Sesame Street, Mother,” Lulu reminded her, finishing off the piece of cake.
    An eleven year old is telling me about life, Joanne thought. There was a sudden knock on the sliding glass door. Joanne turned in its direction.
    One of the workers from the pool was smiling at her from the other side of the glass. Joanne rose slowly from her seat and unlocked the door to slide it open.
    “We’re finished for today,” the man (tall, skinny, with windblown brown hair) informed her. “I was wondering if I could use your phone.”
    Joanne backed out of the way to let him in. As she pulled the door shut behind him, she noticed the trail of dirty fingerprints he had left along the glass and the moist earth caked around his shoes that he was now scattering carelessly across the kitchen floor. “It’s on the wall,” she indicated, pointing to the white phone.
    “Thank you,” he said, smiling at Lulu. When he turned toward the wall to speak, Lulu made a face in her mother’s direction indicative of displeasure. The man suddenly swiveled around again, his back slumped against the wall. “Got me on hold,”