The Ladies of Garrison Gardens [antikvár]

O LD MISSUSM'2004SOMETHING WAS UP. From the hallway outside her bedroom she heard the words Old Missus murmuredor possibly they were shouted; her ears were sharp for a ninety-year-old, but even she couldn t hear through thick pine doors the way she used to. For a moment she contemplated protesting. Essie, who had been her housekeeper, cook, and general factotumfor, was it twelve years now?knew that using the hated Old Missus tide was a call to arms, even if the sweet young thing Essie had just hired did not. Sharp words were called for. But it would take energy to deliver them. And one had to be careful how one spent that precious commodity at her age. Besides, she wasnt sure she wanted her faithful retainers to know exacdy how much of the conversations that swirled around her she managed to piek up. Eavesdropping was one of her main pleasuresthere were so few left.She hoisted herself out of bed as quickly as ninety-year-old joints would allow, so she could begin assembling the various partsdental bridges, eyeglasses, and medicationsthat now made up the whole of "Old Missus."Twenty minutes later, she climbed back into bed. There were addi-tional rustlings and murmurings in the hall, and the sweet young thing entered with a breakfast tray. She had initially balked at hiring the child,