Sequence of Events (part nine)

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Sequence of Events

Chapter Two

Mud in Your Eye

 

 

 

“Another pearly gater, per the Herald.”

She was not a secretary, because Harvey worked only three months of the year. He called Luberta his factotum, and would now and then lower her status to dogsbody. The terms were meant to disdain the notion of an automaton, or a creature, not to make her feel like one.

“You may have this.” He flapped a clipping between his fingers. “Spotted him in the obits. Chester Manfredo, basso profundo, ugliest man on Broadway—his tagline. Married Sabine Dage, a cousin of your maternal grandmother’s.”

“Well, in fact, the Manfredos had some money of their own…”

Harvey’s face said, do not augment. “Take it, take it.”

She saw he’d been at it already with his notations. Her task was to type a cover sheet, paste this scrap of newsprint to a second sheet, and file both among the deceased, those Harvey felt free to name openly in his memoirs. Soon, enough risqué anecdotes might be liberated to fill the first volume.

“But the maid, the one who stole the necklace…”

“Appropriated. Possibly for the good of society.”

“She is living, is she?”

“I haven’t checked. Maids don’t sue.”

Luberta suggested that families sometimes sued.

“Let them.”

She felt his hand on her chair, his lean towards reading her pencil-marks.

“An even thirty,” she told him.

“We’ll need at least fifty.” Harvey sighed. “They’re dropping like flies, the ones my age. What are you wearing?”

“My old rags, dear. Oh, you mean tonight? I haven’t thought.”

“You know.” He spoke in a considering way. “I feel you could drop that baggage.”

“Come again?”

“You’re dowdy for a young woman. Some décolleté, maybe…”

“Harvey. Do you have the insane notion of asking me to sex it up for Boardman?”

“No, no.” A small cackle. “I have a joke in mind.”

“Don’t flatter me to death, you card.”

Besides helping him keep his stories in order, escorting Harvey was Luberta’s other occasional duty. He liked seeing his old friends face to face, the better to judge who belonged on death watch and who, in robust senescence, pottered on. His conduct at these meetings could be scandalous.

Luberta carried Harvey’s gossip straight to Desanges.

 

Curtis Boardman, well-publicized for it, despised Harvey. But most playwrights despised drama critics, Harvey Planter in particular. Boardman might try playing her against her boss, taking a tack she knew well, treating the help as the greater object of interest. She would annoy him by deferring back to Harvey; their crosstalk would provide valuable intelligence.

She asked Desanges, “Do you think about the future?”

“The future is whatever comes next. Take care not to overdress.”

 

 

9

 

 

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A Personal Choice

Sequence of Events (part one)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Stephanie Foster, 2017, 2021, 2026)