“Right, right. Sorry. I was thinking about kisses and kiwis.”
“As you will.” I got a good look at the older woman who had hailed me from the direction of the Lego room. She was short, with a sort of hat/bonnet hybrid on her head, a long-sleeved blouse and floor-length skirt in sober gray and cream, with an equally sober darker gray shawl wrapped around her shoulders. The clothes were modern, if not trendy. And she looked vaguely familiar, though I was sure I hadn’t seen her before. “My pardon for disturbing your thoughts of fruit and bussing.”
Eh? Oh, who cares. “What can I do for you?”
“My name is Mary Ball Washington.” She paused, expectant. When all I did was blink at her, she adjusted her shawl a bit higher and looked crushed. “Oh. I thought . . . I thought you might know me.”
“I’m new here, I’m still learning everyone’s names.” The billions of names, cripes, give me a break, lady!
“Oh, not know me personally, but rather know my purpose. My old friend Christina Caresse Chavelle—” My giggle stopped her. “Pardon?”
“Nothing.” Tina’s real name, heh. I knew I was an immature asshat but every time I heard it, I pictured a romance novel cover from the eighties, complete with shirtless muscular tanned hero and the heaving bosom of a heroine whose name was probably something like Christina Caresse Chavelle. “You were saying?”
“Miss Chavelle asked me to escort your friend Dr. Spangler about. She wishes me to introduce him to ‘interesting people.’” She paused, then added, “I know several interesting people.”
“Huh?”
“Dr. Marc Spangler.” She paused, doubtless trying to gauge the depth of my ignorance. “The sodomite.”
“Jesus, don’t call him that!”
She flinched away from me. “I— Forgive me. You seemed to have trouble placing— I mean, I thought that—”
“He’s not in Hell because he’s gay, y’know. He’s in Hell because he’s my friend!” Hmm. Better rephrase. “I mean, he’s a volunteer. And it’s nobody’s business who he’s attracted to.”
“Oh, I quite agree. A friend of mine was only interested in adhesive love—”
“Ad—” I made my mouth snap shut. Then made it open again. “Sorry, go on.” Adhesive love. Jesus God.
“But he was a good man for all that,” she hastened to assure me, like I’d assumed otherwise. “He was a good Christian; he loved God. He would have taken the vows but he wanted children. He prayed for the devil’s feelings to leave him . . .”
“Devil’s feelings,” I managed with a straight face, “are the worst.”
“. . . to let him be with a woman as he wanted to be with a man. We both prayed,” she finished sadly, then peeked up at me. “It didn’t work. And now that I’ve been around for a bit, I’ve begun to understand why. Some things cannot be helped. I meant no disrespect to your queer fellow.”
I mentally groaned. But she was already skittish and old. So I let it go. “That’s great, now we know who everybody’s talking about. But what does Tina getting you to give Marc the Cool People Tour have to do with me?”
“Oh. Well.” Mary Ball Washington floundered for a moment. (Flounder, not founder. They’re not interchangeable. Major pet peeves: towards instead of toward, amongst instead of among, and founder instead of flounder. Nobody was filling with water and sinking. Mary Ball Washington was verbally thrashing. Not sinking.) “As your underlings—”
“For your own safety, never call them that within earshot. Well, Dr. Spangler, anyway.” Tina probably wouldn’t care. I’d even heard her refer to herself as a minion once. I dunno, she might’ve lost a bet.
“—it is a courtesy to bring such things to your attention, lest you wonder if she’s usurping your lawful authority.”
“Time for a new rule, Mary Ball Washington. I don’t have to know every little thing my underli— No, not that . . .”
“Lackeys?”
“No! My—my fellow committee members! I don’t need to sign off on everything they’re doing.” Especially something silly like Tina asking a local to give Marc a tour. Exactly the sort of thing I trusted Tina with while also not giving a shit about.
Cripes, Satan, micromanage much? I knew Cathie and the Ant tried to head off a lot of these types of—petitioners, would they be? I made a mental note to be especially nice to Cathie, and a little nice to the Ant. “It’s why I have a committee. Because the new boss isn’t the same as the old boss, no matter what the Who said.”