I Still Dream About You: A Novel (38 page)

“When I wrote that letter, I wasn’t thinking very clearly. I may have been having some sort of a little mini-breakdown or something. I’ve had an awful lot of disappointments lately.”

“Oh, boo hoo, who hasn’t?” said Babs. “Are you sure you’re not just some nut job? That letter sounds wacko to me.”

Maggie had no good quick comeback to that.

“I think you need to go and have your head examined.”

“Well, you may be perfectly right about that, but in the meantime, I can assure you I’m not going to do anything stupid.”

Babs took a long sip of her drink and made a face. “God, this is
sweet
!” She looked at Maggie and said, “Not that I care, but I am curious. Just how were you planning to dispose of your own body?”

“Oh … well, if you promise not to tell anyone, I’ll tell you.”

When Maggie had finished telling her the entire plan from start to finish, Babs nodded and said, “Pretty good, but you forgot one thing.”

“What?”

“The raft. They have serial numbers. Somebody could have found it and traced it right back to you.”

Oh, dear … Babs was right. She hadn’t thought about that, but she didn’t want Babs to know it, so she leaned back and smiled. “Very true … however … there was absolutely no way that anybody would ever find that raft,” she said, while trying to quickly come up with a reason why not.

Thankfully, just then the waiter walked over with two more drinks and announced that they were from the nice man in the brown gabardine suit at the bar. Maggie smiled at him, pleasantly but not too friendly; she didn’t want to encourage him.

Babs said, “Well? How were you going to get rid of the raft?”

“Oh …” Maggie said, making it up as she went along. “Well … okay … so after I got out to the middle of the river, I was going to tie myself to the raft with a piece of clothesline.”

Babs frowned. “A clothesline?”

“That’s right. Then I would puncture a hole in the raft, and when all the air was out, instead of me going down with the ship, the ship would go down with me.” Maggie couldn’t help but feel a little pleased with herself for coming up with something so fast.

Despite herself, Babs looked impressed. “Well, you’re either crazier than I thought you were or smarter. I don’t know which.”

“Well, thank you, Babs. Anyhow, I’m sorry that you of all people had to be the one to find the letter; I know you don’t particularly like me.”

Babs agreed. “No, I don’t,” she said. “Even if you had done yourself in, it wouldn’t have mattered to me one way or another.”

“Then why were you so upset?”

“I didn’t want you to mess up my sale of the unit in your complex before we closed escrow. After that, you can go jump in the river for all I care.”

Maggie looked at her. “Oh, Babs … surely you don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do. Look, I feel the same way about you as you feel about me.”

“What do you mean? I don’t dislike you.”

“Oh, come on, who’s kidding who here? I know you and every other realtor in town hates my guts.”

Maggie tried to protest. “Oh no, we don’t hate you, Babs … My heavens.” But then the three double Pink Squirrels on an empty stomach started taking effect, and she said, “Well, yes … I guess we all kinda do.”

“Of course you do, but the difference between me and all of you is that I couldn’t care less what you think about me.”

“But Babs, how can you not care what people think of you?”

“Easy. I just don’t care.”

“You really don’t?”

“No, I really don’t.”

Maggie sat back in the booth and mulled it over, then leaned in and said, “Well, Babs, and I don’t mean this in an ugly way, but considering that you obviously don’t have a conscience or any ethics whatsoever or even one ounce of human decency … I think it’s much easier for you not to care.”

Babs thought about it a second, then nodded. “I guess that’s true.”

Maggie continued on with a pleasant smile. “In fact, you’re probably the meanest, most despicable and evil person I’ve ever met.”

Babs looked at her. “Is that so?”

“Yes. You are without a doubt the most perfectly horrible person I’ve ever encountered in my entire life.” Maggie put her finger up in
the air to make a point. “And, I might add, a thoroughly rotten human being, rotten to the core. Frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised if somebody didn’t wind up running you over with a car someday.”

Babs, now on her third Pink Squirrel as well, started to laugh. She suddenly thought everything Maggie said was hilarious.

“Really, Babs. I don’t see how you can live with yourself. You are a vicious fiend, a two-faced vampire-bat snake-in-the-grass bully. And by the way, those shoes you have on went out of style in the seventies and, Babs, garnet earrings? Nobody wears garnets anymore, much less in the daytime. You have absolutely no morals. You’re rude, hateful, and thoroughly unpleasant, a liar and a cheat and a criminal.”

By this time, Babs was almost doubled over, she was laughing so hard.

“In fact, you probably should be in jail right now.” Maggie stopped and looked at her. “Come to think of it, I wouldn’t be surprised if you weren’t a complete sociopath!”

Babs screamed with laughter at the word “sociopath,” and so did Maggie!

A woman sitting in the corner of the dining room, wearing a pretty pastel green dress with a lace collar, scowled at them, then punched her husband on the arm. “Look, Curtis, both of them drunk as lords, and on Easter, too!”

After they finally were able to control themselves, Babs reached into her purse and handed Maggie a Kleenex and sighed. Then she said, “But what do you really think about me?” And they both started laughing all over again.

When they had recovered and could talk, Babs looked over at Maggie and said, “You may have cotton balls for brains, but you’re funny.”

Wiping her eyes, Maggie said, “Thanks. I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings calling you a sociopath.”

“Me? No, I’ve been called worse than that.”

Maggie gave out a big sigh and looked at Babs somewhat wistfully. “Oh, Babsy, what’s it like not to care about what people think?”

“It’s great.”

“It must be. I wish I didn’t care so much, but really, tell me the truth … deep, deep down, don’t you care just a tiny bit?”

Babs thought, then said with some certainty, “No, I really don’t.”

“Truly?”

Babs shrugged. “No, like I said, what people think about me is no skin off my nose.”

“Aaah,” said Maggie, “but I think it is. I think it probably affects you in ways you don’t even know about and will probably never even find out.”

“How? I’m the top seller in the Southeast. How bad could it be?”

“Yes, but even so, I still think it’s important to have people’s good will.”

“Why?”

“Why? When something bad happens to you, don’t you want people to say, ‘Oh, that’s too bad,’ instead of ‘Oh, goody, she had it coming’?”

Babs shrugged again. “Don’t care.”

“Don’t you want people to wish you well?”

“Don’t care.”

“Oh … Babsy,” said Maggie, reaching for her drink and missing it, “you must have had a terrible childhood. That must be the reason you’re so unethical.”

“My childhood was fine. But while we’re on the subject, let me ask you something. How did you manage to steal Crestview away from me?”

“Oh, that.”

“Yes, that.”

Maggie was caught red-handed and had to admit the truth. “I know the man who handles the Dalton estate, and I called him.”

Babs was surprised. “Oh, really.”

“Yes. Of course I’m not proud of what I did.”

“Why not? I would have done the same thing.”

Maggie looked at her in amazement. “You’re not just saying that to be nice, are you?”

“Me? No.” Babs looked around the room. “I think I’m getting hungry. Should we eat?”

“Of course, order anything you want … the sky’s the limit.”

Babs ordered her steak rare, and Maggie was not surprised.

After they finished eating, Babs said, “I don’t have any plans. Do you?”

“No, I’m free as a bird.”

Twenty-four hours ago, if someone had told Maggie that she would wind up at the Alabama Theatre, still half drunk on Pink Squirrels, seeing
The Sound of Music
with Babs Bingington, she wouldn’t have believed it. After the movie, when they were walking back to their cars, Maggie said, “Do me a favor, Babs: if you ever do buy our company, you can fire me, but keep Ethel and Brenda, okay?”

Babs smiled and said, “Not on your life,” and got into her car and drove away. Like her or not, there was one thing you could say about Babs: she was consistent.

A
FTER MAGGIE HAD LEFT BABS IN THE PARKING LOT, SHE REALIZED
again just how lucky she was that she had not jumped in the river. After all her long and careful planning, the serial number on that raft could very well have given her away. No matter what they said, there really was no such thing as a perfect plan.

When she got home and walked into the house, her phone was ringing. She picked it up, and it was Brenda on the other end. “What happened to you? Are you all right? I’ve been worried sick. Where have you been all day?”

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry, but I’m fine, better than fine … in fact, I’m just perfectly … wonderful!”

“Well, I’m glad you’re so wonderful, but you almost worried me to death. I tried calling you all afternoon. I almost came out looking for you. Why did you have your cell phone turned off?”

“Oh, well, after we had lunch, Babs and I went to the movies, and I had to turn it off.”

There was a long silence on the other end. And then Brenda said, “Have you been drinking?”

Maggie laughed. “Why, yes … as a matter of fact … I have.”

“Well … I think you’d better take some aspirin and go to bed.”

Maggie said, “Yes, Mother, I will. Good night … Sleep tight … Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

Brenda hung up the phone and said to Robbie, “I told you she sounded drunk. She’s loaded to the gills. She thinks she went to the movies with Babs Bingington.”

After the phone call, Maggie decided that ever telling Brenda what she had
really
been planning to do today would be far too upsetting for her. There was no need for her to ever know. She’d get to work early Monday morning and take the note out of Brenda’s desk. But for now, she was suddenly very thirsty. It must have been all that Easter ham she had eaten for lunch and the salty popcorn at the movie. Maggie had just poured herself a glass of water when she heard the sound of a fax coming in on her machine in the den. She wondered who could be faxing her this late, and on Easter, too. Oh God, she hoped it wasn’t her cousin Hector Smoote. She walked back to the den. Just another fax from Miss Pitcock. The woman was like a dog with a bone. She was still at it, and on a holiday, too. Miss Pitcock had now gone online and was searching all the English and Scottish newspapers and the Hall of Records for any information. But after all her digging, she had never been able to locate a birth or a death certificate for Edwina Crocker. She had just faxed over a picture of Edwina Crocker at some reception in a white dress and wearing three big white feathers in her hair. Well, whoever the woman was, she looked like she was happy. Good. Tonight, Maggie wanted everyone in the world, dead or alive, to be as happy as she was.

As Maggie kicked off her shoes and looked around the empty den, she now wished she hadn’t shredded all her photos and all her old press releases, but maybe it was for the best. She had spent far too much time dwelling on the past, and maybe it was a sign that she should concentrate on the future. What an odd thing. Just a few weeks ago, she’d had no future. And now, she had nothing but a future, with so many things to do. She sat down at her desk and started a new list.

Old Age, Pros and Cons

      Pros      

1. You are still alive!
   
2. Senior discounts up the kazoo
   
3. No more high heels
   
4. You don’t have to be nice
   
5. You can say what you think
   
6. You still don’t have to watch the news
   
7. You can watch Turner Classic Movies all night
   
8. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to
   
9. You are still alive!!!
   

      Cons      

When Maggie saw it all written down in black and white … no question about it, no matter what might be coming up in the future right now, there were no cons she could think of. She turned off the light and went to bed and realized for the first time in years, she was actually looking forward to another day.

T
HE FIRST THING
the next morning, Maggie jumped up out of bed and fixed her tea and went outside to greet another beautiful spring day. It was so wonderful to look up and see Crestview. As she sat there, she reviewed her list; No. 4, “You don’t have to be nice,” stuck in her mind.

After she went back inside, she picked up the phone and did something she should have done years ago. When he answered, she said, “Hector? It’s your cousin, Maggie, from Birmingham, calling …” But before he could begin his usual greeting, she said, “I think you should know that it is extremely rude to make fun of someone’s home and their accent.”