sidewalk toward their cars.
But the slippery drive home wasn’t funny.
• • •
O N Friday, Betsy woke to a world transformed. Everything was clad in a coat of crystal, from entire buildings to the smallest twig, and all of it glittering under a frozen sun.
Trucks strewing sand and salt had been busy, so the main roads were safe to drive on. But the side streets Betsy took to get to her water aerobics class had not yet been serviced with de-icers and she drove at an uncertain crawl to the parking ramp across the street from the building.
It was close to the start time of her exercise class when she entered the building. She grabbed the sign-in clipboard to scribble her name and the ID number she’d been assigned and only when she put it down again did she notice that Ethan had already been replaced.
“Already?” she asked the thin young woman sitting there.
“Already what?” The woman’s voice was high-pitched, a child’s voice. She looked very young, too, dressed too casually in a maroon sweatshirt with a zombie’s face printed on it. Her ears were lined with silver knobs and another knob pierced the side of her nose. Her eyelids were thickly blackened with mascara.
“They’ve already hired you to take the place of Ethan Smart. He’s the person usually on at night.”
The woman shrugged. “I don’t know anyone’s name, I’m new. This is only my second night on duty.”
Betsy’s dismay over Ethan’s absence was obvious. She thrashed her way angrily through her exercises, drawing sideways looks from the instructor and fellow exercisers.
“Kind of energetic this morning, weren’t we?” asked Rita in the locker room after the class as Betsy yanked on her underwear.
“I’m not energetic, I’m angry. They fired Ethan.”
After a blank pause, Rita said in a slow drawl, “Ohhhh-kay?”
“He’s the young man who’s usually on the desk when we come in.”
“Oh, the one you were talking to the other morning? The African American fellow? What did he do to get fired?”
“Nothing!”
Rita was scandalized. “You mean they fired him because he’s black?”
“No, of course not,” Betsy said, slamming a foot into a sock. “They fired him because they think he let that woman who drowned into the building.”
“Ah.” Rita pulled her corduroy trousers out of her locker and began to step into them.
“And I’m going to prove they’re wrong.”
Rita smiled at Betsy. “Another mystery for you to solve. Good luck.”
Betsy stopped at the front desk on her way out. “I’d like to speak to whoever is in charge of security in this complex,” she said to the woman on duty—a different woman from the one she’d seen when she arrived. This woman was tall and stout, a black woman in dark green silk, with an elaborate hairdo and wickedly long painted fingernails. So, here was the person who manned the desk during the working day.
“If you’re interested in applying for a position, I have an application right here for you to fill out.” The woman was already reaching into her multitiered filing tray.
“No, that’s not what I want to do.”
The woman paused without taking her fingers away from the tray. “Do you want to leave a message, then? Admin personnel aren’t here until nine.”
Betsy looked at the big clock on the wall behind the desk: eight fifty. “I’ll wait,” she decided.
She went to sit down. The plain buff chair was hard and uncomfortable. On the low metal-and-glass table were two stacks of brochures, each touting Watered Silk as a wonderful place to live: One was titled “Living in Comfort” and the other, “When It’s Time to Decide.” The first encouraged seniors to come live at Watered Silk, the other was directed toward adult children or grandchildren who might choose Watered Silk for their aging relatives. The color photos in each were identical, however.
Very shortly after 9 a.m., an administrative assistant in the person of a young-looking
But the slippery drive home wasn’t funny.
• • •
O N Friday, Betsy woke to a world transformed. Everything was clad in a coat of crystal, from entire buildings to the smallest twig, and all of it glittering under a frozen sun.
Trucks strewing sand and salt had been busy, so the main roads were safe to drive on. But the side streets Betsy took to get to her water aerobics class had not yet been serviced with de-icers and she drove at an uncertain crawl to the parking ramp across the street from the building.
It was close to the start time of her exercise class when she entered the building. She grabbed the sign-in clipboard to scribble her name and the ID number she’d been assigned and only when she put it down again did she notice that Ethan had already been replaced.
“Already?” she asked the thin young woman sitting there.
“Already what?” The woman’s voice was high-pitched, a child’s voice. She looked very young, too, dressed too casually in a maroon sweatshirt with a zombie’s face printed on it. Her ears were lined with silver knobs and another knob pierced the side of her nose. Her eyelids were thickly blackened with mascara.
“They’ve already hired you to take the place of Ethan Smart. He’s the person usually on at night.”
The woman shrugged. “I don’t know anyone’s name, I’m new. This is only my second night on duty.”
Betsy’s dismay over Ethan’s absence was obvious. She thrashed her way angrily through her exercises, drawing sideways looks from the instructor and fellow exercisers.
“Kind of energetic this morning, weren’t we?” asked Rita in the locker room after the class as Betsy yanked on her underwear.
“I’m not energetic, I’m angry. They fired Ethan.”
After a blank pause, Rita said in a slow drawl, “Ohhhh-kay?”
“He’s the young man who’s usually on the desk when we come in.”
“Oh, the one you were talking to the other morning? The African American fellow? What did he do to get fired?”
“Nothing!”
Rita was scandalized. “You mean they fired him because he’s black?”
“No, of course not,” Betsy said, slamming a foot into a sock. “They fired him because they think he let that woman who drowned into the building.”
“Ah.” Rita pulled her corduroy trousers out of her locker and began to step into them.
“And I’m going to prove they’re wrong.”
Rita smiled at Betsy. “Another mystery for you to solve. Good luck.”
Betsy stopped at the front desk on her way out. “I’d like to speak to whoever is in charge of security in this complex,” she said to the woman on duty—a different woman from the one she’d seen when she arrived. This woman was tall and stout, a black woman in dark green silk, with an elaborate hairdo and wickedly long painted fingernails. So, here was the person who manned the desk during the working day.
“If you’re interested in applying for a position, I have an application right here for you to fill out.” The woman was already reaching into her multitiered filing tray.
“No, that’s not what I want to do.”
The woman paused without taking her fingers away from the tray. “Do you want to leave a message, then? Admin personnel aren’t here until nine.”
Betsy looked at the big clock on the wall behind the desk: eight fifty. “I’ll wait,” she decided.
She went to sit down. The plain buff chair was hard and uncomfortable. On the low metal-and-glass table were two stacks of brochures, each touting Watered Silk as a wonderful place to live: One was titled “Living in Comfort” and the other, “When It’s Time to Decide.” The first encouraged seniors to come live at Watered Silk, the other was directed toward adult children or grandchildren who might choose Watered Silk for their aging relatives. The color photos in each were identical, however.
Very shortly after 9 a.m., an administrative assistant in the person of a young-looking
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