On Wednesday afternoon, Gervase carried up a flower delivery to Kitty Doyle’s unit, tapped gently – as was his custom – on the door, and quietly announced, “Miss Doyle, this is Gervase. I have a delivery for you. I believe it’s fresh flowers.”
The door cracked opened; two bare arms, but no face, appeared. Gervase placed the box in her outstretched hands and retreated, with not a word of thanks from the recipient. He wasn’t surprised. Echoing from his childhood home, his mother’s voice admonished him, ‘Never go downstairs empty-handed’ – and although for her it had always meant an object moved in the interests of tidiness, so that the same held true for going upstairs – in this case, he felt very much as though it was he who was somehow not doing his part. This was absurd; how did the Doyle woman manage to instill in him these recurring feelings of inadequacy?
Setting the box on the kitchen counter, Kitty lifted the lid and pulled the card out from the tiny envelope. ‘For Kitty, from Greg. No hard feelings.’ Opening a utensil drawer, she extracted a pair of scissors, carried the open box and its twelve assorted pink, blue, and nearly black, long-stem roses to the bathroom vanity where, one by one, she dissected each stem and bud into stubby bits. This mass of pieces she then dumped into the toilet, and flushed, repeating her mantra.
“You shit, you shit, you shit.” The toilet backed up and overflowed onto the floor. She did a little paroxysm of a dance, with Rumpelstiltskin effect, damning the puddle growing at her feet, flushing again and again, even as the water sucked and gushed. Slamming the bathroom door closed behind her, she dialed Gervase, screaming into the phone that she needed a plumber – she specified one skilled in the art of copulation – and now. When the emergency rate plumber arrived at her door later, with Gervase, Kitty stormed out, snarling.
“Just fix it, pronto. Crap I put up with in this dump.” She flung at Gervase, “Your precious association’s going to hear about this.”
They turned into the bathroom. Gervase was in the unenviable position of technically supervising workmen in the building but usually knew little enough about what they were doing. He’d picked up some additional know-how while working there; he wasn’t that unhandy himself and of course, had needed some basic knowledge in order to get his job. He’d just never been especially intrigued by mastering those skills and made a point of not participating in work in progress. By now, he knew many of the people whom he called in for repair or maintenance work. He enjoyed some of them more than others. The plumber, Tank Peters, he admired; this guy was perennially calm, no matter how disgusting the work might be. Gervase figured it must be because he earned so much from doing it. The plumber joked that he always charged more, if the customer ‘helped’.
“Starting a garden center in here, by the looks of it.” reckoned Tank. “Didn’t know you could start roses by cuttings. I’ll have to ask the wife about that. Any hows, glad she’s never been this mad at me.” Tank indicated the annihilation before them. Gervase nearly gaped at the scene, then recovered his wits. Better to have been ignored by this creature than to have been chopped to bits by her; rather endure his own thankless fate than know the doom of the flowers.
He changed the subject, curious just what this couple’s pair of names might be. No harm in being curious about a workman. He allowed himself to ask, “What’s your wife’s name?”
“Tink.” Tank grinned. “It’s really Arabella, so Tink seemed about right. She’s the plant person in our family. By us, I just do the watering.” Gervase was still struggling with the name connection, why Tink and Arabella went together. He repeated, Tink, Arabella. This reminded him of something. The plumber was still talking, “Say, what’s downstairs from this any hows?”
Management companies hire outside contractors for maintenance or emergency work.
The turnout of association members was better than average as Earnest Arbuthnot called the special meeting to order later that evening, although Kitty Doyle was not in that number. Gervase had set up extra chairs in expectation of a good turnout; nothing like a mystery, in his experience, to generate some interest.
“Thank you all for coming down. We’ve invited the two police detectives along this evening to clarify the investigation for us. I expect they’ll be here shortly. In the meantime, we can cover another new matter. The pool will remain closed until further notice, not only in conjunction with police inquiries but because the board will be very soon consulting with our association attorney, Mr. Seth Hough.”
“Who?”rudely interrupted a voice.”Is he from that ad on the radio?”
“Seth Hough, of Horton, Hearst, and Hough,” repeated Earnest, “on any questions raised by the recent events or any ramifications for the association. We’ll see what Seth has to say to us and be reporting back those findings to our members, at a later date.” Many residents now had the ear worm of that jingle singing in their minds, hoping that they wouldn’t be soon paying for a lawsuit.
“We’re Horton, Hearst and Hough
Here to take care of you
Whenever you sue.
We’re big guys in gray suits
Who’ll take on your lawsuits
We’re Horton, Hearst and Hough
Horton, Hearst and Hough.”
Earnest located Greg Mendel in the crowded meeting room. “Greg Mendel has approached us with a proposal. Perhaps you would like to explain it to us, Greg.”
“Sure, thanks.” Greg stood up; he knew he communicated better on his feet. “Since the pool is closed, and for those of us looking for an alternative for that missing exercise, I thought this might be a good time to suggest a ping-pong table for us all to use.” He looked around the room, including everyone in his view. “We have one at the club that’s greatly enjoyed and used a lot. You’d be surprised at what a work-out you can get, though it’s fun for casual play, too. I’d be pleased to give this to the association.”
“Where would it go?” asked a resident.
“Not in here, I hope!” another quipped back, to general guffaws. Earnest took over, a little startled at the jovial tone that the meeting was taking.
“Thank you for this generous offer!” Greg smiled and sat down. “Naturally, this would never be placed so as to interfere with the use of any common area space, such as this room or the lobby, or to crowd our existing exercise facilities. So, might there be room on the solarium floor?” Earnest put this to the members. “Other than the sitting area, guest suite, community kitchenette, and restrooms, there is the rest of that floor available. Could we section off a space there, perhaps to the west, away from the preferred lake views? We would have to contain it somehow. Can’t have the balls bouncing all over.”
“It would be a better workout, though, with all that chasing.” joked Greg. “Sure, I can throw in the cost of partitions. Let me do a little more research. But I take it there’s a general agreement that it’s a welcome idea?” Apparently there was hidden pool of players, ready and eager, living in the building.
“There’s a group of us back here already passing around a sign-up sheet.” called out a voice from the back of the room.