Getting Old is a Disaster Part 4

"Shh," Bella cries out. "I lost count. Now I have to start again." With that she flails her arms and accidentally knocks her pile of coins onto the floor.

Jack gallantly stoops down to pick them up.

While he is down there on his knees, reaching under the table, a drumroll sounds. More like someone banging on a pot. Even though it's still light outside, someone is flas.h.i.+ng the light switches off and on. And a huge chorus of voices begins to sing, "Happy engagement to Jack and Gladdy, happy engagement to them . . ."

Jack, caught on his knees as if he is in proposal mode, practically cracks his skull leaping out from under the table.

All the diners in the restaurant burst into applause.

I shrug at Jack and point to the huge strawberry cheesecake lit with candles that Velma holds aloft as she comes toward us.

The bill is finally paid. By Jack. Why am I not surprised? The girls are about to stand up, when Jack announces. "Ladies, I have something to tell you."

I gasp. I can't believe he's actually going to do it. All eyes look to him expectantly. "Glad won't be going straight home tonight. I'll drop you all off, then Gladdy and I will go to my apartment."

Sophie and Bella don't get it right away. When Bella does, she blushes. Ida's head drops down as she rips what's left of the bread on her plate into little pieces. Sophie giggles. Evvie slyly smiles.

The awkward silence that follows is broken by Mr. Kay, the manager, who walks over to our table and hands me a plain white envelope. "Mrs. Gold, a gentleman gave this to me on his way out and asked me to deliver it to you."

I open it as the girls begin to come out of their comatose state. Inside is a plain white piece of paper folded in thirds. As I take it out a small green feather flutters onto the table. I pick it up as I read from the scrawled note, " 'Getting old ain't for sissies. Catch me if you can.' " There's more but the girls are already on their feet. I shove the note and feather in my purse and stand.

Bella fairly swoons. "Another note from the Grandpa Bandit!"

To Jack's astonishment, we all race for the door. Once outside we look around the parking lot.

"Look!" Evvie shouts.

We see a hand waving to us from the darkened window of a senior pickup van leaving the shopping center. We hurry to the curb, but are too late. Evvie quickly grabs her pen and takes down the model and license number of the van.

Back in the restaurant again, we question the manager. But all Mr. Kay can say is he was an old guy with gray hair. Figures.

6.

Jack's Place

From Jack's grinning and whistling, I gather the girls didn't throw him off as much as I feared. I guess the letter from the bandit with its green feather cus.h.i.+oned the shock of his announcement.

We dropped the girls off at Phase Two, thinking who knows what thoughts as they stared after us. Jack parked his car, and now we stroll, hand in hand, toward his apartment building. All I have brought to this evening's adventure is my toothbrush. I wish I'd had time to put on something slinky (not that I have much in that line). Or even a dab of perfume. But never mind, it's a beautiful evening. The storm clouds still hover, but the sky has striations of reds amongst the deep purplishblues. And I'm with my darling man.

Jack swings my arm with his, like some happy five-year-old on his way to a party. "See how easy this will be?" Now he's the party clown putting on a smiley face for the birthday girl. His mood is contagious. I feel like a kid, too. I am fairly skipping along with him.

We hurry upstairs to his apartment on the second floor. Jack turns the key in the lock. I glance around discreetly, relieved to see that no one is watching. The grounds are fairly empty since it is dinnertime for most people-those who don't live by early-bird-special rules.

Jack's voice goes singsong. "I know what you're thinking."

I laugh. "I know you know."

Once we're inside, he makes a demonstration of double locking the doors. Dramatically, he pulls down the blinds in each of the rooms. "No one and nothing will spoil this evening. I give you my promise."

"And I'll hold you to it." I watch his shenanigans with delight. He's so good to be with. I feel so blessed. I also feel a little nervous about where this is going.

He turns off the phone ringer with a flourish. "There! We are alone in our little pleasure-dome coc.o.o.n. Nothing will disturb us."

With that he grabs me and kisses me, holding me tight to him. It's a wonderful kiss, and the hug that goes with it feels like it may go on forever. I hope it does. We finally come up for air.

"Need a drink for courage?" he asks me.

"No," I whisper, trying to catch my breath.

We zigzag our way to the couch. "Shall I tear off

our clothes before or after we make it to the bed?" Jack says this as he's unb.u.t.toning his s.h.i.+rt.

"Wait," I say eagerly. "We need to exorcise old demons."

"Go on, exorcise away." Jack kicks off his shoes.

I am worried. Not so much about the act we intend to consummate-well, that, too, a little. My concern is, what will interrupt us this time? Something has on every other occasion. I have to voice it out loud. "May I remind you that in Pago Pago, just as were about to have at it, we received a fax that changed our plans immediately . . ."

"How could I forget?" Jack gestures expansively with his hands. "No fax machine here. No problem."

"And our silly fight that kept us apart for so long."

"Over and forgotten."

"In your New York hotel room, the phone rang, once again interrupting us with important news that had to be dealt with instantaneously."

"Phone's turned off. No news can find us."

I listen. The silence is wonderful.

"Nothing's going to intrude. I'm telling you."

"It will. I know it will."

"Nonsense." He pulls me down on the couch. Then onto his lap. "Thank G.o.d."

"Why 'Thank G.o.d'?"

"Because I don't need v.i.a.g.r.a."

Kiss. Kiss. Ummn, more . . .

"Lucky us to have each other."

I snuggle closer into his arms. "No girls to interrupt."

"No thinking about the girls allowed. Shut it down."

"Done."

More kissing and murmuring of silly nothings. How happy can one be? His body fits so well with mine. I let myself sink into the pleasure of the moment. It's been so long . . .

The doorbell rings.

We freeze.

I moan, "No . . ."

He echoes my "No," then shakes his head. "I will not answer it."

We both jump up so quickly that we bang heads.

The doorbell rings again. Jack mutters irritably, "I am absolutely not opening that door."

The ringing is now followed by knocking and then a seductive female voice calling, "Come on, Jack, I know you're in there."

Now it's Jack's turn to moan.

Another voice is heard. A high-pitched one. "It's seven o'clock."

And yet another female voice, a wispy one. "I brought the cards."

Jack gets off the coach. I roll over into a sitting position, straightening my dress as best I can.

He whispers to me, "Don't move, they'll go away."

"Who are they?" I ask.

"My bridge partners."

A few moments later, Jack's cell phone rings from a side table, once again startling us. Jack snarls. "They aren't giving up." He glares at it as the phone keeps ringing, then finally it stops.

We wait breathlessly. Silence. He smiles at me, sensing victory, then grimaces as the pounding on the door begins again.

We look at each other. No use. Jack says, "One thing you can say about bridge players, they are tenacious!"

Moving to the door, he runs his fingers through his hair and turns on the lights. "d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n . . ."

He struggles with the double lock, cursing. When he finally opens it, there is an immediate flurry of activity. One woman, nice-looking, in her fifties, wearing navy blue sweats, lugs in a small square folding table. Two other women carry packages. One of them, a redhead wearing a rather s.e.xy sundress with a jungle/tiger print, moves easily to the kitchen. The one following her is taller and big-boned. Even though they see me sitting there, none of them has the decency to be embarra.s.sed.

The s.e.xy voice calls out, "We brought all the snacks this time because we knew you didn't have time to shop."

The taller one adds, "Mostly pretzels and chips."

As if in a trance Jack helps the woman in blue sweats unfold the card table.

I sit up straighter on the couch, trying to look casual and relaxed although I am neither. I'm actually frustrated and annoyed. I cross and recross my legs. This can't be happening again. It can't. Is this some cosmic joke?

Finally the trio turns to stare at me. The s.e.xy woman stands much too close to Jack, who looks beyond sheepish.

"Hi," says the s.e.xpot. "I'm Louise Bannister." With that dress, I expect her to growl.

The tall woman says, "I'm Carmel Graves, from one flight up."

And blue sweats waves cheerfully. "I'm Carol Ann Gutsch from two doors down."

"My bridge partners," says Jack, shamefacedly. "Tonight's our usual game night. I guess I forgot."

I get up from the couch and move on shaky legs. "I'm Gladdy Gold," I manage to say, my voice breaking. I can't even look at Jack. "I was just leaving," I stammer.

"No, don't," Jack says, holding tightly to my arm. He faces the trio of card players. "I'm terribly sorry, but I made other plans tonight."

"So I see," says Ms. Bannister, a.s.sessing her compet.i.tion. "I wish you'd called. I could have made other arrangements and not wasted my evening."

Carol Ann behaves as if someone ran over her pet cat. "I was so looking forward to tonight. I circled it three times on my calendar."

Carmel also seems crestfallen. "Maybe I could still make it to the movies if I can find someone to drive me. I don't see too well at night."

They look to Jack, waiting. What a bunch. The man-eater is trying to make him feel guilty because such a hot tootsie could have filled her dance card over and over again.

Carol Ann is making him feel even guiltier about her lonely night ahead, and Carmel is playing the "I'm so needy" card. Jack doesn't have a chance.

I touch his shoulder and shake my head. I say to the group, "Please, don't let me upset your plans." I give Jack a quick peck on the cheek and leave.

As I hurry toward the stairwell, Jack is suddenly behind me. "Gladdy, wait."

"Let me know who wins." I can barely stifle my sarcasm.

"I am going to insist we play another night. Come back in. Please." He tries to pull me into his arms, but the mood is gone. Talk about totally.

"I can't. Not right now. I have a splitting headache."

Jack tries for a smile. "Can't you see the humor in this?"

And I do. I laugh softly. Jack joins in. He says, "You think there's some conspiracy keeping us apart?"

"Probably. Go back inside before your harem girls melt into a pool of self-pitying tears. And beat the h.e.l.l out of them. In cards, I mean."