“What’s this $80? I don’t remember your mentioning it,” Mack Jordan asked his housekeeper, Aretha Flournoy.
“Of course I mentioned it,” Aretha replied. “I mentioned it Friday a week ago. You paid Jack for two lawn jobs.”
“What Jack?” Mack asked.
“Jack Pate,” said Aretha.
“The crippled teenager?”
“No matter. He always does a great job on the grass,” Aretha said.
It was a weekly ritual for both: going over the accounts item-by-item, savings and checking. Mack Jordan, an unwilling widower a few short years ago, was a retired pro golfer. He’d enjoyed national fame and earnings and had played alongside such contemporaries as Palmer and Nicklaus. He was pleased Aretha had been with him going on 20 years now. Her value to his well-being was unquestionable.
“I’ll get that,” Aretha said and answered the phone on Mack’s oversized yew studio desk. After a couple of minutes, she hung up.
“Cancellation and bad news,” she said. “Dr. Harper.”
“Cancellation?” Mack cried. “They just called early this morning saying not to forget!”
“I know that, but Melba just now said Dr. Harper passed about an hour after this morning’s call.”
Mack winced.
“Sure was sudden. He was only in his fifties, wasn’t he? Overworked, I suppose. Oh, I don’t mean to sound cold, but after you lose a spouse, nothing shocks you anymore,” he said. “You know that, Aretha.”
“Can’t argue there,” Aretha said. She’d lost two husbands due to death. She wasn’t interested in a third.
“Now who’ll supervise my stress test tomorrow morning?” he asked.
“You won’t be having it tomorrow. You’ll have to wait a few days. They’ll call us. Melba said Dr. Logan will be there to assist you. He’s an excellent cardiologist and has been with the company over five years.”
“All their cardiologists are excellent. They don’t hesitate to remind anyone. Maybe I’ll last a few more days,” Mack said sardonically.
“I’m sure you will Mr. Jordan,” Aretha smiled.
