2 Yule Be the Death of Me Read Online Free PDF

didn’t
mean to hold you up. Good luck.” Suzette gave a little wave and drifted into
the crowd.
    Vivienne
scooted past a new surge of people who were working their way toward the bar
area and arrived at the front reception desk. She was relieved to see the
restroom sign next to the little room that Todd had turned into a coat check.
    She pushed
open the door, and as luck would have it, one of the two stalls was open. She
stopped by the sink and dropped the plastic cups into the trash can when she
suddenly heard a loud sob erupt from the closed stall.
    Looking into
the mirror, she could see a pair of plain black flats under the door. Not
wanting to appear rude, she pretended not to hear it and stepped into the open
stall. Closing the door and latching it, she was just about to sit down when a
pair of thick heels clacked into the ladies room.
    “Damn, they’re
both taken up.” A woman with a throaty-smoker’s voice said.
    “I bet the
men’s room has a dozen stalls.” A softer voice added.
    “Did you see
that God-awful gingerbread church?” The smoker asked.
    “I’ve seen
abandoned ruins with more charm.” The softer voice laughed. “What a mess.”
    “They ought to
have some kind of minimum standard for entering these things. It’s a disgrace
to have that eye sore next to some of those others.” The smoker agreed.
    Another sob
erupted from the stall next to Vivienne.
    “Honey, pee or
get off the pot will you?” The smoker rapped on the stall door where the
distraught woman was holed up. “Some of us have small bladders.”
    Vivienne felt
angry at the callousness of the pair outside the stalls. After she finished,
she pulled the toilet paper roll off the holder and put it in her purse. She
then flushed and opened the door. “This one is open ladies.” She smiled.
    “It’s about
time.” The smoker voice turned out to be a woman who looked like she was in her
late fifties. Tight black curls, a face drawn with wrinkles around the mouth
from years of smoking, she appeared as dour as her voice sounded. Dressed in a
pair of tan pants and a red sweater, she hurried past Vivienne and closed the
door without so much as a nod of thanks.
    Her friend,
the softer voiced one, turned out to be a petite woman with a bun of white hair
and wore a pair of glasses that were a shade of hot pink with gaudy fake
diamonds embedded on the temples. She waited patiently by the sink, seeming
slightly embarrassed by her companion’s behavior, as Vivienne washed her hands
and left the restroom.
    She held the
door open for just a moment and then heard the smoker curse a blue streak that
there was no more toilet paper. She let the door close and giggled to herself
at her own little version of swift justice. She was about to walk away when a
young woman with straight black hair that could desperately use a cut and style
slipped out and nearly ran into her.
    “Are you
okay?” Vivienne asked.
    The woman was
young, looking to be in her mid-twenties at best. She had soft brown eyes that
were red and puffy from crying in the stall. Dressed in a plain green tee shirt
and a pair of faded jeans that had ragged bottoms, she didn’t look like someone
who had much good fortune in this life. “Were you the one in the other stall?”
    “Yes.”
Vivienne nodded. “I didn’t want to intrude.”
    “Oh, that’s
okay.” The young woman replied. “I just wanted to thank you for what you did.”
    “What did I
do?” Vivienne asked.
    “Taking all
the toilet paper?” The young woman gave a little smile. “She’s still in there
swearing up a storm.”
    Vivienne
smiled back. “She deserved it.”
    The young
woman opened her purse, a rather beat-up fake leather piece that had seen
better days and produced a second roll. “Great minds think alike, I guess.” She
smiled a little more.
    “If you don’t
mind me asking, why were you crying in there?”
    The young
woman was about to answer when a portly man with greasy brown hair, thin