The Glimpsing by James L. Black, Mary Byrnes Page B

by 5:30, no matter how late you go to bed.”
    “Yes, I guess I didn’t sleep well.”
    “That or you’ve finally gone over the hill.”   As if to punctuate this dry bit of humor, she snatched together two fistfuls of curtain and yanked them apart, blasting Jack’s eyes with sunshine.   He grimaced, removing one hand from behind his head and using it to shield his eyes.   “Is everything okay?” Janice asked looking over her shoulder, her voice full of false concern.   “I have to say you don’t look very well at all.   You’re not sick, are you?”   She began moving to the other set of curtains.
    “I think I’m nursing a hangover…or something.”
    “A hangover?   Really?
    “Yes.   My head is splitting.”
    “Well, I’ve got just the remedy.”   She snatched open the other set of curtains, spraying Jack once more with glaring yellow light.
    He snatched his other hand from behind his head and extended it in vain defense.   “Damn it, Janice, take it easy.”
    “That’ll teach you to frighten me,” she quipped, then briskly walked away.
    Janice had been Jack’s housekeeper for more than five years.   The two had grown rather fond of one another, this despite her tendency to be motherly and overbearing.   She had long chided him for his “womanizing,” a term he thought not only old-fashioned but hardly fitting.   Nevertheless, on the third Friday of every month, he treated Janice and four friends of her choosing to dinner at any restaurant in the city.   When time permitted, he’d accompany the group, which was usually comprised of several women from Janice’s church, none of whom could help but swoon over having dinner with one of New York City’s most notable bachelors.
    “How much damage did they do?” Jack asked.
    Janice was lightly dusting the picture frames in the gallery.   “You mean the party guests?”
    “Yes.”
    “Not too bad.   A few dishes here and there; some abandoned streamers.   Apparently, someone wandered into the study with cake.   They got icing on one of the books in your library.   Was it a good time?”
    “I enjoyed myself.   I wish you would have come.”
    “A housekeeper amongst the rich and famous?   Not exactly my crowd.”
    “Yes, you’re too good for them.”
    Janice smiled, still dusting.   “Get any interesting gifts?”
    “I did.   I… Oh, that reminds me.   You didn’t happen to see Gabrielle downstairs, did you?”
    Janice stopped dusting, turned.   “Gabrielle?”
    “Yes.”
    She pointed the feather duster at the two photographs of her in the gallery.   “That Gabrielle?”
    “Yes.”
    “Portia’s best friend, Gabrielle?”
    “Yes, that’s the one.”
    “No.   I can’t say that I did.   But why would she be stopping by so early in the morning?”
    “She spent the night, Janice.”
    Janice turned around fully.   “Spent the night?”
    “Not now,” Jack groaned.   “I already told you I have a headache.”
    “You’ll need brain surgery by the time I’m finished with you,” she snarled.   “You two are actually involved?”
    “Something like that.”
    “Well, how long has this been going on?”
    “A while.”
    “How long is a while?”
    “Long enough.”
    Janice pursed her lips, then glanced off to the images of Gabrielle.   She studied them before turning back.   “And this isn’t just some passing fling, is it?   She’s special to you.”
    Jack found himself suddenly annoyed.   “What makes you say that?”
    She looked at the gallery.   “It’s obvious.”
    “What do you mean it’s obvious?”
    “Well for one, you collect models on your wall, not actresses.   And yet there she is, sitting in the midst of them all.”
    “That’s ridiculous,” Jack said.
    “Is it?   Then how do you explain that she’s the only one with more than one image?”
    Jack peered at the gallery as if for the first time.
    Janice added, “And haven’t you recently placed a third picture of her in your