Free Sandy Gingras - Lola Polenta 01 - Swamped by Sandy Gingras Page B

Crumball Road. They do a good job, otherwise I get a little mustache,” she admits. “Then I stopped at the grocery store. In the afternoon, I went to play Bridge with the girls in the clubhouse.”
    She pauses. “It seemed like it was such a normal day.”
     

Chapter 15
    “What are you going to sit down on?” Squirt asks me when I get into work. We’re assessing my new office. My desk has arrived. The file cabinet is next to it and my in-box is on top. Dreamer’s sitting next to it all.
    I brought Dreamer to work with me this morning. While my father’s gone, I figure I’ll bring her to work. Squirt didn’t say anything when she saw Dreamer. Her shoulders just got a little stiffer.
    “Oh,” I say.
    “And you need a lamp and a picture,” she tells me. “Get something peaceful.”
    Miss Bossy Britches.
    “You might want to paint that wall an accent color,” she gestures toward the desk.
    “You taking an adult course in decorating, too?” I ask.
    “That was last semester,” she says. “I re-did my dining room in a pumpkin color. Pumpkin is very ‘in.’”
    “I don’t think I would like pumpkin color for my office,” I say with as much politeness as I can muster.
    “Oh no,” she says. “You don’t want a red tone. It stimulates the senses. You want a blue one. So calming.” She puts her hand over her heart. “What about lilac?” she suggests.
    “I was just going to leave it the way it is.” It’s white, all white. And the floor is speckled beige laminate squares.
    “Oh,” she says, one eyebrow up. “Well, if you want people to think that you have no warmth.”
    “I have warmth,” I tell her.
    “How about an area rug?” she offers.
    “I have warmth,” I tell her.
    I go to Staples again. I get a black roller chair for me, a black client chair, a white lamp and even a small area rug—beige. When I leave Dreamer with Squirt, she makes a exaggerated picking-the-dog-hairs-off her pants gesture. I ignore her.
    After I arrange my new accessories, Squirt comes in and Dreamer follows her. “Not bad,” she says about my office. She puts a folder on my desk. “Your client has arrived,” she announces grandly. Dreamer follows her out of the room, tail wagging like a happy little shadow.
    The lady who comes into my office is eighty if she’s a day. She’s plump and red haired with tiny freckles all over her nose. She’s got a bob hairdo, a green shirt-dress with a neat black belt and a black shiny purse and white running shoes. She’s also wearing a pair of wraparound mirror shades that don’t look like hers. She doesn’t take them off., She looks kind of like an old girl scout, kind of like a spy.
    “How do you do?” she says, shaking my hand firmly. “I’m Mrs. Black.”
    “Thank you for coming in, Mrs. Black,” I say.
    “I took a taxi,” she tells me. Maybe I should re-do my business cards now that I’m in Florida and offer to do house calls.
    “How can I help you?” I ask.
    She adjusts her spy-glasses. “I believe my husband is fooling about on me,” she says primly.
    I sit there in my new chair, semi-swiveling and thinking quietly.
    “What?” she snaps. “You think because he’s old, he can’t get it up?”
    “Um. Nope,” I say.
    “He can’t take Viagra because of his blood pressure, but he has one of those pumper things,” she says in her no-nonsense way.
    “Oh,” I say.
    “It’s like a balloon,” she explains.
    “Hmmm,” I say agreeing, but I can’t really picture it.
    “You think I shouldn’t care because I’m old?” she snips.
    “What makes you think your husband is cheating on you?”
    “I don’t think, young lady. I KNOW. He leaves every other day and he’s gone from one o’clock to four o’clock. Then he takes a nap when he gets home. He says he’s driving to the clubhouse to play cards. But he goes somewhere else. I can’t follow him myself because I don’t drive anymore. But last week, I crouched behind the gatehouse and watched