Weekend Read Online Free

janitor? Couldn’t you have gotten Julius to take the case for you? He appreciates any nibble you send his way.”
    “It wasn’t quite that simple.”
    “With you nothing is simple. Anyway, are you coming over here or not?”
    “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he said, wishing somehow that everything could be different.
    He remembered the look on Tony Wong’s face and went back to his private desk to look up his cousin’s New York number, frightened in the deepest recesses of his soul that he had only postponed, not eliminated, disaster.

two
    It was a glorious Friday morning, one that made Magda, the forty-seven-year-old Hungarian beauty who served as hostess for the Congress, thank God she was alive to enjoy it. If she were superstitious, she might have considered it an omen, that such a dazzling day could only be a forecast of a magnificent weekend and season to come.
    Taking the scenic route from her cottage to the old farmhouse a half mile away, she walked past the first tee of the newly designed golf course, so expertly manicured and nurtured that it looked like something created artificially in the hotel’s stagecraft basement. Surely the technicians came out at night while the guests slept and rearranged those little divots and sand traps. She chuckled at the thought and took in a few deep breaths of the crisp fresh country air, made even sweeter by the hundreds of colorful dahlias, marigolds, daisies and peonies that dotted the flagstone pathway. She marveled at the beauty of the monarch and tiger-tailed butterflies that fluttered above and smiled as she passed the sign Sandi had put up near one of the gardens when she was eight years old. “Please do not pick us. We bloom for your pleasure. Thank you. The flowers.” Even though it wasn’t yet nine o’clock, the sun felt as if it was at full strength and she welcomed the shade the tall oaks and elms provided as she continued on her way.
    Arriving at the farmhouse a few minutes later, she tapped lightly on the outer screen door. “Good morning. Anybody up?” Ellen Golden leaned out of the window directly above. The two-story residence still bore the same wooden shingles and black shutters Pop Golden had hammered on forty years ago.
    “I thought we were going to meet in the coffee shop.”
    “It was such a nice day, I thought I’d get some fresh air before the crowd arrives. I offer myself as your personal escort,” Magda said, bowing with a flourish from the waist.
    The farmhouse was characteristic of so many of the old buildings constructed in the Catskills at the turn of the century—two-level, multi-roomed wooden structures with numerous architectural after-thoughts added on as the original farmers started to take in boarders. This one still had the cast iron grillwork that took hours to clean properly.
    Ellen opened the screen door and pushed back a few strands of her light brunette hair. Even though it was outdated by over a decade, she still wore it in the same pageboy style Lauren Bacall had popularized in the forties. Phil had liked it that way. “You’ve got her sexy voice and the body that goes with it. Bogart is one celebrity I’ll make sure we don’t invite up here.” Right now, even though she was only thirty-eight years old, she sure as hell didn’t feel sexy. She looked wistfully back into the house.
    “Maybe I should wake Sandi and say good-bye before I leave.”
    “Maybe you shouldn’t. She’ll know where you are. Besides, she was up pretty late last night. I saw her in the Flamingo Room close to midnight last night ogling Bobby Grant.”
    “I’m afraid I’m leaving her alone more than I should.”
    “She probably loves it,” Magda said, taking her friend by the arm. “When I was her age, I loved to feel independent. So did you.”
    “Girls her age need guidance, especially when they’ve just lost their father.”
    “I’ll keep an eye on her for the next couple of days.”
    Ellen nodded and then closed the