The Secret Keeping by Francine Saint Marie Page B

and she oohed and aahed over olives and mustards for an hour while Delilah looked on skeptically.
    She preferred white or off-white combinations to greens or yellows and warned emphatically that the wrong paint will make the space seem too small.
    Lydia wanted that.
    “If you’re not careful it’ll end up looking like a Hungarian whorehouse.”
    “Hah! I’ve made worse mistakes!”
    They spent the rest of the day walking the waterfront, scoping out the curios and antique shops. In one of them Lydia found a pair of black netted gloves still in their box.
    “Now where would you wear these?” she asked Delilah. She was infatuated.
    “Ooh, slinky.”
    “Silk,” uttered the blue-haired proprietor. “They are of silk.”
    Lydia couldn’t place the woman’s accent. She had a sly, sophisticated face covered with age spots and wrinkles, and the overall patina of wealthier days, albeit faded.
    She slipped one of the gloves onto Lydia’s hand.

    “For the bedroom,” the woman said in a sultry tone. “Special.”
    The universe contracted and then expanded again.
    “A gift for the woman he wants in his bed,” she added. “You don’t wear them too long, I don’t think.”
    “I thought we were looking for furniture, Liddy.”
    Something for the bedroom…
    “I’ll take them.”
    The sun came out and Delilah went to greet it.
    “Good luck,” said the shopkeeper as Lydia was leaving.
    The bell over the shop door tinkled as it closed behind her.
    “I couldn’t resist, Delilah.”
    “I see that. Now all you need is a dresser to put them in.”
    _____

    The Dow was barely three thousand when Lydia had started out, and even that, her father had assured her, was astonishing. In those days a four or five-hundred-point fall was considered a collapse and it still made her nervous when it happened.
    Work was a rough ride from Monday through Wednesday and she spent most of that time fielding panic calls from jittery investors.
    On Thursday afternoon, even though it was against policy, she turned her answering machine on and left work early.
    She was staying with Delilah and hadn’t been to the apartment since last Sunday. The contractors had begun the floor installation Monday morning as promised and she was as excited as a child for Christmas, even though it was nowhere near completion.
    On arrival, she found only the parlor and part of the living room done, but she nevertheless beamed with joy when she saw how it brightened the place.
    The foreman kept the men working, though it was clear they would rather have stood around bragging about their techniques. He took that pleasure for himself while he cast predictions about the time schedule and repetitively reminded her that even when they were done with the actual installation there would still remain an extensive cleaning and the expert application of three coats of finish.
    “You shouldn’t walk on it for a coupla’ days,” he said.
    That was logical but disappointing.
    “Specially not with them.” He pointed at her heels and grinned.
    She thanked him and headed back to Delilah’s just a few blocks away.
    “Hey! You’re in a good mood.”
    “Del, wait until you see it.”
    “I can’t wait. Come and tell me about it.”
    She was wearing a mud mask in preparation for a dinner date.
    “It’s gorgeous.”
    “The crew or the floor?”
    “Oh, it’s all beautiful, Del. What’s on your face?”
    “Nothing. I’m green with envy, Liddy.”
    “Each room is going to have a different pattern…but I can’t walk on it for three days after it’s done.”
    “Oh? Pass me that. Thanks. Can you crawl?”
    “I’m just gonna roll on it when it’s done.”
    “Yah! With no furniture to get in the way. That’ll be easy.”
    “Got to paint the place first, Del. Get ready.”
    “What do you think I’m doing here? Isn’t this about the same color?”
    Delilah left around six-thirty.
    “If all goes according to my plan, Liddy, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    She gave