Murder in the Collective Read Online Free PDF Page B

if she were enjoying the pattern of the ceiling’s cracks.
    There was something extremely likeable about Hadley Harper. Just her name and even where she came from—“Huyooston,” she’d drawled in her slow voice when I’d asked. “Yuh, deep in the heart of Texas.” She was all legs, almost hipless, with wide strong shoulders and elegant collarbones that bisected the deep V of her heavy blue gabardine shirt. Her medium-length hair, stuck carelessly behind her ears, was straw blond and prematurely gray; her eyes were a startlingly clear shade of turquoise blue, like that of a swimming pool in the desert at midday. Her speech, and her smile too, came more from one side of her mouth than the other, quizzical and amused.
    I wondered, as we all settled ourselves, what some of the others in my collective were thinking about B. Violet—whether they’d already sized the women up or were waiting until they started talking to make decisions.
    “So,” said Elena, brightly and firmly. “Shall we get started? Decide on an agenda? And a facilitator? We should have a facilitator.”
    Everyone looked around at their own and others’ shoes and sandals. After a pause both Hadley and June spoke at once: “I’ll do it.”
    “Go ahead,” said Hadley.
    “Oh no,” said June. “You do it.”
    “I’d rather you did.”
    “Christ,” said Penny irritably. “Forget the facilitation. Forget the agenda. We just have one thing to talk about, and that’s why B. Violet wants to merge with Best Printing.”
    “Wants to!” hissed Anna, crossing and uncrossing her arms over her large breasts, as if the charge were too much to bear. “Wants to!”
    After that it was temporarily a free-for-all.
    In retrospect I’m glad it happened that way. Oh sure, we could have been all nice and polite with an agenda of why and where and how and who, and a facilitator attending to the feelings of all concerned, keeping the discussion clear of roadblocks and making sure no one went off the deep end, but if it had happened that way I’m pretty sure it would have been uncomfortable and inconclusive. This way, at least, everybody got their feelings out.
    And nasty they were too.
    “If you think that B. Violet wants to join a bunch of males and straight women, and to be stuck in a little corner of your shop, out of the way, you’re crazy,” said Margaret, taking up where Anna’s speechless denial had left off. Margaret had obviously brought her mental ruler to bear on our square footage and had automatically decided that they’d be relegated to the back if they moved in.
    “There’s nothing that says if we merged we’d have to stay in this exact space,” said Elena, which drew a howl from Penny:
    “You must be kidding—do you have any idea how much moving costs? Not to mention the cost of not doing business?”
    “I’m sorry,” Jeremy put in nervously, angrily, “But, like, you know, I just don’t want to be apologizing all the time for being a guy. I’m sorry, but I just don’t.”
    “You’re apologizing now,” snapped June. “You don’t have to do that. Nobody should have to apologize for anything. We didn’t start this,” she added.
    “I feel the same as Jeremy,” said Ray. “I refuse to apologize, and I also feel that we have our own problems here that we’re working on in terms of racism. We’ve finally worked some things out and now to have four new members, all white…”
    Zee nodded vehemently, but said nothing. Margaret and Anna glared at her as if she was the male plaything incarnate.
    “It’s not at all clear to me,” I said, “that B. Violet would have to become members of our collective. We might be able to work out an arrangement of sharing some facilities, but keep our own separate decision-making processes intact…”
    Elena gave me an encouraging, even grateful look, which moved me to try to expand this idea that had only just occurred to me, but at that moment Fran, who had been gathering her forces