Women's Wiles Read online

“Audrey, please. Not now. I’m very tired.” And suddenly she was very tired. Tired of the shallow self-interest by which they had guided their lives together; tired of the wasted years of picking people apart, of magnifying the faults of others and ignoring their virtues.

  But Audrey was not ready to let her off. She switched on the light and glared at Marjorie across the room.

  “Why didn’t you call me? Have you any idea how worried I was? I was just about to call the police. I’ve been standing by that window for hours, wondering what to do.”

  “You didn’t have to do that, Audrey. I can take care of myself.”

  “Take care of yourself! What did I just see out there? Do you call that taking care of yourself? Tell me that gray hair was just a trick of the moonlight. Tell me that old junk heap was a Cadillac in disguise. Go on, tell me.”

  “It’s worse than even you can imagine,” Marjorie flared. “Norman Jolly is a retired schoolteacher and a grandfather. And if he asks me, I’m going to marry him. Now I’m going to bed.”

  The next morning, Audrey was subdued. The sisters breakfasted and scarcely a word passed between them. It was Marjorie’s turn to do the laundry and she fled to the basement, leaving Audrey morosely pushing the vacuum cleaner. When she returned, Audrey was studying fabric swatches and comparing them with her costume sketches.

  “Norman will be at rehearsal this afternoon.”

  “Will he?”

  “He’s going to do the lighting. Audrey, when you meet him, you’ll understand.”

  “Will I?”

  “Audrey, he’s different. He’s made me see things differently. I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”

  Audrey stared at her sister for a long moment. At length she said, “How nice.”

  The wedding was planned for the Saturday following the last performance of the play. Marjorie scheduled their honeymoon trip herself. First to Colorado to visit Norman’s son and his wife, then on to San Francisco, which Marjorie had never seen, but had always wanted to visit.

  Audrey said, “I guess I’ll be taking our winter cruise alone.”

  “Why don’t you try something new for a change? Go skiing in Vermont. Or look, here’s a tour of Mexico that might be fun.” Marjorie waved a brochure.

  “Old habits die hard,” said Audrey. “I don’t want to go alone.”

  Rehearsals went smoothly, and the director complimented Marjorie on her characterization.

  “You’re positively regal, old girl. I don’t know how you’ve done it, but you’ve brought more depth to this role than I suspected you had in you. You’re going to be a grand old lady one of these days.”

  Marjorie smiled, and Norman beamed. Audrey went silently about her work of making last-minute alterations and adjustments to the costumes. She had met Norman with reserve, and had avoided him as much as possible.

  “I think your sister resents me,” Norman said during a break in rehearsal one evening. Audrey was sitting in a dark corner backstage, gazing blankly at nothing.

  “Maybe,” Marjorie whispered. “She hasn’t been feeling well. Headachy and not sleeping. But she’s been to the doctor, and he’s given her some sleeping pills. She’ll be all right.”

  After her first outburst, Audrey had said nothing further against Norman. She seemed to be struggling with some inner turmoil, but was not inclined to talk about it. Marjorie attributed it to disappointment with her for planning to marry so unworthy a person as Norman Jolly. Marjorie wished her sister could see Norman as she did, but she didn’t press the issue.

  Late one night, after the final rehearsal, Audrey said, “I don’t suppose you two would consider moving in here?”

  Marjorie glanced sharply at her sister. Audrey’s face was haggard, and her eyes looked bruised. She seemed to have lost weight.

  Marjorie worded her answer carefully. “Norman has a house, Audrey. He’s converted the garage into his hobby shop. I can’t ask him to leave it.”

  “No, of course not. And I can’t afford this place by myself.”

  “Have you thought about advertising for someone to share it with you?”

  “I won’t share my home with just anyone off the street.” Audrey’s voice cracked with suppressed pain. “We’ve been together since we were children. Do you think you can just walk out and expect me to get used to some stranger overnight?”

  “I’m sorry, Audrey. I didn’t think—” It was on the tip of her tongue to ask Audrey to move in with her and Norman. His house was small, but surely big enough for three. But she couldn’t do it without consulting Norman.

  “Never mind,” Audrey said. “I’ll just have to move into some dreary furnished room somewhere.”

  “Don’t be silly. I don’t need the furniture. You’re welcome to it. And you’d be better off in a smaller apartment closer to town. You know we don’t fit in here anymore.”

  “It isn’t just the apartment. It’s—well, I’ll be alone. We’ve been together for so long. I don’t know how I’ll like living alone.”

  Marjorie felt an enormous wave of sympathy for her sister. She had hoped that the example of her own newly learned capacity for love would work a miracle for Audrey too. She put her hand on her sister’s shoulder, feeling the quivering tenseness there.

  “No one has to be alone, Audrey. You have to learn to let people into your life.”

  “So you say.” Audrey opened a kitchen cabinet and took down her vial of sleeping pills. “Good night, dear sister.”

  The play opened to rousing success, and ran its full three weekends to packed houses. On the final night, the director threw a party at his house and surprised everyone by producing a three-tiered wedding cake.

  “Since our young lovers are going to sneak out of town right after the wedding, we’re having the reception before the fact. I hope it’s not bad luck.”

  Norman and Marjorie cut the cake, a ragged chorus sang “Here Comes the Bride,” and someone handed Marjorie a wilted bouquet of paper flowers, which she threw directly at Audrey. Audrey caught it and smiled a tentative cautious smile, as if her face were made of china and might crack. After that Audrey joined the festivities, talked and laughed, drank perhaps a little too much, and seemed as cheerful as anyone else. The party straggled off into the sunrise, and Audrey was among the last to leave. Marjorie was glad to see her enjoying herself.

  The wedding was set for Saturday. In the intervening week Marjorie shopped, packed, and made final arrangements. Audrey helped her with good grace, and bought a new dress for herself as maid of honor. The ceremony would take place in the minister’s study. Susie’s Bob would be best man.

  “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” said Marjorie.

  “Yes, I am,” said Audrey, “and I hope you and Norman will be very, very happy.”

  On the Thursday evening before the wedding, Norman had one final business trip to make. He had learned of a collection of HO trains that was for sale in a small town about 200 miles to the north. After prolonged negotiations by telephone, the owner had agreed on a price and Norman planned to drive up Thursday night, pick up the trains on Friday morning, and be back by Friday afternoon.

  “Let me cook dinner for you before you go,” said Audrey.

  Marjorie was delighted that Audrey had come around, and Norman needed no urging to accept. “But I’ll have to leave right after dinner. It’s a four-hour drive and I don’t want to get too tired.”

  “That’s all right,” said Audrey. “Marjorie and I have lots to do before the big day.”

  On Thursday afternoon, Audrey left work early.

  “I need to do some shopping,” she said. “And I want everything to be perfect. You’re not to lift a finger, Marjorie. This is my treat for you and Norman. He really is a nice person.”

  Marjorie’s happiness was complete. If Audrey could only realize how wrongheaded they both had been, if she could only be a little less calculating, she might find such happiness for herself. And it looked as if she was on the way.


  When Norman and Marjorie arrived, Audrey was busy in the kitchen. The dining table was set with candles and a small centerpiece of sweetheart roses. Audrey popped her head out. Her cheeks were flushed, and she was smiling.

  “Just sit down and relax, folks. I’ll bring you a drink in a minute. Something different. A Negroni.”

  “I don’t know if I ought to drink,” said Norman. “I’ve got a long drive ahead of me.”

  “Oh, just one. It won’t hurt. And then we have Chicken Kiev and fresh asparagus. A light meal, so it won’t make you sleepy.”

  Audrey disappeared back into the kitchen.

  “I can hardly believe the change that’s come over her,” said Norman.

  “Yes. Isn’t it wonderful! And she’s found a nice apartment downtown. She’ll be near everything. Promise me, Norman, that we won’t shut her out of our lives. She dreads being alone.”

  “She’ll have more family now than she’s ever had.”

  “Here we are,” said Audrey. She carried two pinkish drinks in her hands. “Here’s yours, Marjorie, and this is yours, Norman. They’re a little bitter-tasting, but that’s the Campari. Have you ever tasted Campari, Norman?”

  “No, I don’t think I ever have.”

  “Well, I have to get back to the finishing touches.” She skipped back to the kitchen.

  “Not bad,” said Norman after the first sip.

  Back in the kitchen, Audrey put some butter over a slow flame to melt. The salad was ready, the asparagus almost done. The chicken was perfect. And for dessert, a lemon meringue pie—Norman’s favorite.

  Audrey smiled as she tidied up the kitchen. She washed the paring knife and put it away. She wiped the counter clean. And she placed the vial of sleeping pills back in the cupboard.

  There were still two left. She could get some more tomorrow.

  “Maybe I’m marrying the wrong sister,” said Norman an hour later. “Anybody who can make a lemon meringue pie like that one deserves to be kissed.”

  He rose from the table and did just that. Audrey laughed and said, “Be careful, Marjorie, or I’ll steal him away from you.”

  “I hate to eat and run, girls. But I really should be on my way.” Norman took Audrey’s hand. “Thank you, Audrey. I know it’s been difficult for you, but you’re not really losing your sister. We’ll have lots of happy times together.”

  “I’m sure we will,” said Audrey, smiling warmly. Marjorie went with Norman to the door and Audrey began clearing the table. The sisters washed the dishes together.

  “Just two more nights,” said Audrey. “Then you’ll be gone.”

  “I’m so tired,” said Marjorie. “Can’t keep my eyes open. I can finish the packing tomorrow. I think I’ll go right to bed.”

  “Must be all the excitement,” said Audrey.

  Marjorie woke early. It had always been her habit to shower and put the coffee on before waking Audrey. This morning was no different. She plugged in the coffee pot and switched on the radio. The announcer’s voice filtered through her thoughts of tomorrow and all the days to come.

  “—in a highway accident late last night. Witnesses said the car began swerving in and out of its lane before crossing the median and crashing head-on into an oncoming trailer truck. It seemed as though the driver had suffered a heart attack or fallen asleep at the wheel. Dead at the scene was Norman Jolly, 55, of this city. The driver of the truck is listed in fair condition at—”

  A numbness enveloped Marjorie like a freezing shroud. She could only breathe in shallow gasps. Her lips framed a name, but she could make no sound. Her legs felt huge and leaden, her head seemed to be floating to the ceiling. She shivered spasmodically and fell to the floor. Far away the telephone rang…

  The icy shroud covered her face, and cold wetness trickled down her neck.

  “Marjorie! Marjorie! Can you get up?”

  Hands plucked at her. The voice commanded her attention.

  “Marjorie! Can you make it to your bed?”

  Her own arm moved and her hand pulled the wet towel away from her face. She scrambled clumsily to her feet.

  “That’s the way. Easy does it. Susie just called and told me. Oh, Marjorie, it’s terrible! She’s been down at the morgue. She wants you to call her.”

  “No.” Marjorie lurched toward her bedroom, stumbled past her suitcases, and fell onto her bed.

  “That’s all right then, dear. Just lie down. I’ll take care of you.”

  “Audrey?” Marjorie’s voice was faint and muffled in her throat. “Don’t leave me.”

  “I won’t leave you.”

  “Audrey? Can I have one of your sleeping pills?”

  The sisters are inseparable.

  They live together and work together. They wear each other’s clothes and cook neat little meals for each other. Once a year they take a cruise together. And if one runs out of sleeping pills, the other will share hers.

  But sometimes Audrey’s eyes glitter and her jaw juts at the memory of things past. And sometimes Marjorie’s eyes widen and swim with wonder at the memory of things that might have been. These memories they do not share. There are some things that cannot be shared with anyone.

  Second Chance

  Edward D. Hoch

  Their meeting was one of those bizarre things that happen only in real life. Carol Rome was home from her assembly-line job at Revco with the beginning of an autumn cold, running just enough of a fever to prefer the quiet warmth of her apartment to the constant chatter of her co-workers. She’d heard the door buzzer sound once, but decided to ignore it. What was the point of being sick in bed if you had to get up and answer the door?

  She had almost drifted back into sleep when she became aware of some scrapings at the apartment door. Then, with a loud snap that brought her fully awake, the door sprang open. Through the bedroom door, she saw a tall, dark-haired young man enter quietly and close the jimmied door behind him. He looked to be in his late twenties, not much older than Carol herself, and he carried a black attaché case in one hand. The iron crowbar in his other hand had no doubt come out of it.

  The telephone was next to the bed, and Carol considered the possibility of dialing for help before he became aware of her. She was just reaching for the phone when he glanced into the bedroom and saw her.

  “Well—what have we here?”

  “Get out or I’ll scream,” she said.

  He merely smiled, and she was all too aware that he was still holding the crowbar. “You wouldn’t do that,” he said. “I’m not going to hurt you.” His face relaxed into a grin. “That is, not unless you’d like me to.”

  “Get out!” she repeated.

  “You should get a stronger lock on that door. In this old building they’re awfully easy to pop open.”

  She was becoming really afraid now, perhaps because he wasn’t. “Look, my purse is on the dresser. There’s about twenty dollars in it. That’s all I’ve got.”

  He continued grinning at her, making no move toward the purse. “You’re sort of cute-looking, you know. What’re you doing home in bed in the middle of the day? Are you sick?”

  “Yes.”

  “Too bad. I buzzed first. If you’d answered the door, I’d have said I was an insurance claims adjuster looking for somebody else. That’s why I’m dressed up, with the attaché case and all. I wouldn’t have come in if I’d known you were home.” The grin widened. “But I’m glad I did.”

  She took a deep breath and lunged for the telephone.

  He was faster. He dropped the crowbar and grabbed her, pulling her half out of the bed until they tumbled together to the floor in a tangle of sheets and blankets.

  His name was Tony Loder, and he’d been ripping off apartments for the past two years. He didn’t need the money for a drug habit, he was quick to inform her. He just liked it better than working for a living.

  “Aren’t you afraid I’ll call the cops?” she asked, rising to get a cigarette from her purse.

  “I guess you�
�d have done that already if you were going to.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “I guess I would have.”

  “What about you? How come you’re living alone?”

  “My former roommate moved in with a guy from the plant. Besides, I like living alone.” She sneezed and reached for a Kleenex. “I hope you don’t catch my cold.”

  “I don’t worry about colds.” He was staring at her with the same intensity as when he’d first discovered her in the bed. “Do you have a man around?”

  “Not right now. I was married once, five years ago.”

  “What happened?”

  “He was dull. He wanted to buy a house in the suburbs and raise kids. I don’t think I could live like that. As soon as I realized it I got out.”

  “What do you do at this plant? Anything connected with money? Are you in the bookkeeping department?”

  Carol laughed. “Sorry. I’m on an assembly line with twenty-three other girls. We run wire-wrap machines. Do you know what they are?”

  “I don’t want to know. It sounds too much like work.”

  “I’ll bet you do as much work breaking into places as I do working on the line.”

  “It’d be a lot easier if I had a partner, that’s for sure.”

  “How come?”

  He shrugged. “I could do different things. I wouldn’t have to jimmy doors for a living.”

  He left her after an hour or so, promising to phone. And he did, the following evening. She began seeing him almost every night. There was something exciting about having a burglar for a lover, something that kept her emotions charged all during the day. It was a life worlds apart from the dull, plodding existence she’d known during her brief marriage to Roy. Listening to Tony’s exploits, she was like a child hearing fairy tales for the very first time.

  “I almost bought it today,” he’d say, rubbing the back of her neck as he sipped the martini she’d prepared for him. “An old lady came home too soon and caught me in her house. I’d phoned to tell her I was from the social-security office and she had to come down about some mix-up. Old ladies living alone always swallow that one. But it started to drizzle after she left the house, and she came back for her umbrella.”