Two hundred beepers woke up and chirped their signals to their
keepers. The ones being paged read the scrolling messages, smiled,
stuck the devices in their pockets and purses, and headed out.
*****
Melissa breathed a barely perceptible sigh of relief. Can’t relax too
much yet. In two hours it will all be over.
*****
Last week he called her at work.
“We should go out to dinner tonight. I made a big sale. Got the check
in my hand.”
“That’s great, Matt! What time?”
“Sure you’re up to it, Mel?”
Not that again! Yes, she had cancer. Yes, she was weak from her
treatment day before yesterday. But please, Matt, don’t treat me like
one of your porcelain dolls. She ignored his question and asked her
own.
“What did you sell?”
“That Currier and Ives print – the one you always hated.”
“Ah yes. The one that has brown all around the edges and people that
look out of proportion. How much?”
“Hang on to your wig.”
She gritted her teeth. How many times had she told him not to joke
about her wig?
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