didn't know why it was so important; she only knew that it was.
"God, that Danny is gorgeous."
Amanda glanced up to see Delores drying off with an enormous pink towel as she watched Danny execute a perfect dive into the pool.
"Sometimes I find myself flirting with him before I remember," she said, lighting a long, brown cigarette. "Then he'll say something totally young and disarming and I feel like a dirty old woman."
"I'm sure he enjoys talking to you," Amanda said, staring at her hands. She didn't want to talk about Danny; she didn't even want to think of him. "Have you been at Greenleigh long?"
"Only about two weeks. There's a whole new batch of people here. John is an old friend and most of the staff is the same, but Danny is new and so are several others in B-North. You see that young man in the green bathing suit?" Amanda glanced at the other side of the pool, then nodded. "I think he became too fond of his English sheepdog."
"Delores!" Amanda gasped. "How do you know that?"
"I don't," she said as though that didn't matter: "I made it up, but look at him. Doesn't he look a prime candidate for bestiality? I had a butler once—"
"Please," Amanda said, laughing weakly. "Don't tell me about your butler. Aren't there any people here who don't have deviant vices?"
Delores looked down her nose as only Delores could do. "Why on earth do you think I come here? The most interesting people in the country are here."
"Since you're here, I'll accept that."
"Me? No, I'm afraid not. Haven't you noticed that all the really insightful, really profound women of the past century have been gay?" She shook her head in regret. "And I am so determinedly heterosexual, I despair of ever being truly interesting."
Amanda laughed. She had never heard anything so outrageous said so beautifully. "You're wrong. You're totally interesting, deviant or not."
"Deviant is in the eye of the beholder," Delores said, stretching luxuriously, "just as normal is. Oh, God, Virgie and Peter are fighting again."
The two people who had captured Delores's attention were standing at the end of the pool, both young and attractive, both shouting violently. The girl, her black hair pulled up in a knot on top of her head, was small but curvaceous, the pink bikini she wore leaving almost nothing to the imagination. The young man with her was only a few inches taller and looked slightly emaciated.
"They just naturally rub each other the wrong way," Delores said. "You would think their problems would cause a bond—given the similarity."
Amanda was not a natural gossip; it made her uncomfortable. But she had the distinct feeling that she was about to gossip whether she liked it or not. She was right.
"Virgie is a nympho," Delores said casually, lying back on the lounge chair. "And Peter is a drug addict. They kicked him out of medical school because of it."
"Virgie! Peter!" she called, waving to get their attention. Virgie responded with a digital gesture that made Delores laugh. Peter turned away from the girl and walked toward them. He looked extremely young and vulnerable, but as he drew closer, Amanda saw that his eyes were old. Old and sad and cynical.
"Hello, Has-Been," he said as he reached them.
"Hello, Junkie," Delores responded, laughing throatily.
Staring down at Delores, he studied her famous features. "I don't suppose you've read the Robert Frost poem about aged actresses, have you? His advice was to buy a few friends to keep you company in your later years." He raised a brow in inquiry. "I haven't seen a penny."
"And you won't," she said firmly. "Now stop being a show-off and meet Amanda, new member of the family. She's into books."
"So you're a literary person," Peter said as he sat down. "A lot of you seem to go around the bend."
"Not that kind of book, I'm afraid," Amanda said. "I'm a bookkeeper, and I think it's too dull a profession to cause many breakdowns."
"No, you're right. Bookkeepers always skip to South America with the
"God, that Danny is gorgeous."
Amanda glanced up to see Delores drying off with an enormous pink towel as she watched Danny execute a perfect dive into the pool.
"Sometimes I find myself flirting with him before I remember," she said, lighting a long, brown cigarette. "Then he'll say something totally young and disarming and I feel like a dirty old woman."
"I'm sure he enjoys talking to you," Amanda said, staring at her hands. She didn't want to talk about Danny; she didn't even want to think of him. "Have you been at Greenleigh long?"
"Only about two weeks. There's a whole new batch of people here. John is an old friend and most of the staff is the same, but Danny is new and so are several others in B-North. You see that young man in the green bathing suit?" Amanda glanced at the other side of the pool, then nodded. "I think he became too fond of his English sheepdog."
"Delores!" Amanda gasped. "How do you know that?"
"I don't," she said as though that didn't matter: "I made it up, but look at him. Doesn't he look a prime candidate for bestiality? I had a butler once—"
"Please," Amanda said, laughing weakly. "Don't tell me about your butler. Aren't there any people here who don't have deviant vices?"
Delores looked down her nose as only Delores could do. "Why on earth do you think I come here? The most interesting people in the country are here."
"Since you're here, I'll accept that."
"Me? No, I'm afraid not. Haven't you noticed that all the really insightful, really profound women of the past century have been gay?" She shook her head in regret. "And I am so determinedly heterosexual, I despair of ever being truly interesting."
Amanda laughed. She had never heard anything so outrageous said so beautifully. "You're wrong. You're totally interesting, deviant or not."
"Deviant is in the eye of the beholder," Delores said, stretching luxuriously, "just as normal is. Oh, God, Virgie and Peter are fighting again."
The two people who had captured Delores's attention were standing at the end of the pool, both young and attractive, both shouting violently. The girl, her black hair pulled up in a knot on top of her head, was small but curvaceous, the pink bikini she wore leaving almost nothing to the imagination. The young man with her was only a few inches taller and looked slightly emaciated.
"They just naturally rub each other the wrong way," Delores said. "You would think their problems would cause a bond—given the similarity."
Amanda was not a natural gossip; it made her uncomfortable. But she had the distinct feeling that she was about to gossip whether she liked it or not. She was right.
"Virgie is a nympho," Delores said casually, lying back on the lounge chair. "And Peter is a drug addict. They kicked him out of medical school because of it."
"Virgie! Peter!" she called, waving to get their attention. Virgie responded with a digital gesture that made Delores laugh. Peter turned away from the girl and walked toward them. He looked extremely young and vulnerable, but as he drew closer, Amanda saw that his eyes were old. Old and sad and cynical.
"Hello, Has-Been," he said as he reached them.
"Hello, Junkie," Delores responded, laughing throatily.
Staring down at Delores, he studied her famous features. "I don't suppose you've read the Robert Frost poem about aged actresses, have you? His advice was to buy a few friends to keep you company in your later years." He raised a brow in inquiry. "I haven't seen a penny."
"And you won't," she said firmly. "Now stop being a show-off and meet Amanda, new member of the family. She's into books."
"So you're a literary person," Peter said as he sat down. "A lot of you seem to go around the bend."
"Not that kind of book, I'm afraid," Amanda said. "I'm a bookkeeper, and I think it's too dull a profession to cause many breakdowns."
"No, you're right. Bookkeepers always skip to South America with the
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