Weekend Read Online Free PDF Page B

you see coming up this weekend. I don’t want to sound like a total idiot when I talk to people around here.”
    “For starters,” the hostess began, “we have almost three single women for every single man. You know what that means?”
    “Phil would say the guys are going to get screwed to death,” she said with a laugh, “and there’ll be a lot of bitchy broads at checkout time.” Then she turned serious. “I wonder why the ratio is so off-balance.”
    “To be honest, darling, I think it’s because other hotels offer more facilities that appeal to the male sex.”
    “Phil used to say there’s only one facility that interests the male sex.” She caught herself. “Oh, God, I’ve done it again.”
    “Done what?”
    “Said ‘Phil used to say.’ I’ve got to stop thinking only in terms of what Phil would say.”
    “You will,” Magda said gently. “In time.”
    Ellen shrugged. “Under the circumstances, how is Mr. Pat going to handle the seating in the dining room?”
    “With great care. And he’ll probably suggest that his single busboys and maybe even his not-so-single ones go down to the Flamingo Room after work and use whatever strength they have left to push some of the lonely ladies around the dance floor.”
    “I never liked that suggestion coming from management,” Ellen mused, “but I guess it’s just one of those necessary evils. As Phil would say, it goes with the territory.”
    They both ignored the repeated reference to her late husband, and Magda continued to give Ellen the rundown on the number of families, new guests, out-of-towners coming up, when she suddenly remembered. “Incidentally, Bob Halloran tells me one of the custodial people was checked into the hospital last night. I didn’t get any of the details.”
    “One of our regulars?”
    “No. Someone new.”
    “I’ll check with him when I get back to the office,” she said. “I hope it’s nothing serious.”
    She was so grateful that, knock wood, she, Sandi, Magda, the people she loved and trusted, were in good health. Severe illness, especially so close to Phil’s death, was the last thing in the world she’d want to cope with now.
    “They must be doing something right,” Bruce Solomon said, looking at the long line of cars backed up waiting to get through the main gate. Sid Bronstein just grunted. He had seen it all before.
    “What the hell are they doing anyway?”
    “Checking names. Making sure no one gets on the grounds without a reservation. It serves two purposes, actually. It eases the mob scene in the lobby when so many people arrive at the same time, and it caters to a certain sense of snobbishness, a confirmation that no outsider can get for free what they are paying for so dearly.”
    “Good thinking.” Bruce ran his stubby fingers along the sides of his face, checking the closeness of his shave. He hadn’t had much time to pull himself together once he got Dr. Bronstein’s call early that morning. Twenty-eight and single, he had what many women tended to describe as a disarming sweetness, a camouflage if ever there was one for in action, he was neither sweet nor disarming. His eyes moved constantly with a penetrating gaze, scrutinizing, observing, analyzing, always questioning.
    “Actually,” Sid said, staring at the fins of the Cadillac in front, “scenes like this are rare up here these days. Business has been dropping off radically. In fact, many of the smaller resorts have been forced to close down.”
    “It’s hard to believe,” Bruce said, remembering all he had heard and read about the fabulous Congress.
    “You can’t imagine the overhead in running a place like this. The Goldens are reputation rich and dollar poor.”
    “Meaning?”
    “Meaning they’re mortgaged to the hilt. Unions have thrown payroll expenses sky high. The property taxes are unbelievable. And to keep up with competition like Grossinger’s and the Concord, they’ve had to expand, refurbish, redecorate and