Tales of the City 03 - Further Tales of the City

upon horror. Indignity upon indignity.
    And now, the ultimate humiliation.
    She had finally been forced to invite Prue Giroux to lunch.
Emma appeared on the sunporch with a tray of Mai Tais.
    “A little refreshment?” asked Frannie.
    The columnist flashed her syrupy little-girl smile. “It’s a teensy bit early for me, thanks.”
    Frannie wanted to kick her. Instead, she accepted a drink from Emma with a gracious nod, sipped it daintily, and smiled right back at this hopelessly common woman. “By the way,” she said, “I find your column … most amusing.”
    Prue beamed. “I’m so glad, Frannie. I do my best to keep it light.”
    “Yes. It’s very light.” Inside, Frannie was raging. How dare this creature address her by her first name?
    “As far as I’m concerned,” Prue continued, obviously developing a familiar theme, “there is far too much ugliness in this world, and if each of us lit just one little candle … well, you know.”
    Frannie saw the opening she needed. “I suppose you know about my daughter.”
    “Yes.” The columnist’s face became a mask of tragedy. “It must have been awful for you.”
    “It was. It is.”
    “I can’t even imagine what it must have been like.”
    “Most people can’t.” Frannie took another sip of her Mai Tai. “Except maybe Catherine Hearst. She comes to visit sometimes. She’s been terribly sweet. Uh … do you mind if I show you something?”
    “Of course not.”
    The matriarch excused herself, returning moments later with the evidence, now tattered almost beyond recognition. “These used to be DeDe’s,” she said.
    The columnist smiled. “Pompons. I was a cheerleader, too.”
    “DeDe sent for them,” Frannie continued, “when she was in Jonestown. She used them when she was at Sacred Heart, and she thought it would be cute if she had them in Guyana for the basketball games.” She fidgeted with her cocktail napkin. “They found them with her things … afterwards.”
    “She … uh … led cheers in Guyana?”
    The matriarch nodded. “Just as a lark. They had a basketball team, you know.”
    “No,” said Prue carefully. “Actually, I didn’t.”
    “DeDe was a doer, Prue. She loved life more than anything. I have verified for certain that she and the children weren’t among the dead in Jonestown … and in my heart, my most basic instincts tell me that they made it out of there alive.”
    “When?”
    “I don’t know. Earlier. Whenever.”
    “But didn’t the authorities presume …?”
    “They presumed a lot of things, the fools! They told me she was dead, before they even checked to see if her body was there.” Frannie leaned forward and looked at Prue imploringly. “I know you’ve probably heard all this before. I called you here, because I need you to help me publicize a new development.”
    “Please,” said the columnist, “go ahead.”
    “I spoke to a psychic this week. A very reliable one. She says that DeDe and her friend and the twins are alive and living in a small village in South America.”
    Silence.
    “I’m not a hysterical woman, Prue. I don’t normally subscribe to that sort of thing. It’s just that this woman was so sure. She saw everything: the hut, the mats they sleep on, the villagers in the marketplace, those precious little twins running naked in the …” Frannie’s voice broke; she felt herself coming apart. “Please help me,” she pleaded. “I don’t know who else to turn to.”
    Prue reached over and squeezed her hand. “You know I would, Frannie, if there was any way to … well, surely the newspapers or the TV stations would be better equipped to handle this sort of thing.”
    The matriarch stiffened. “I’ve talked to them already. You don’t think I would call you first?”
    What was the use? This ridiculous woman was like all the rest, humoring her as if she were some sort of senile old biddy. Frannie dropped the matter altogether, hastening her guest through lunch and out of her house without further ado.
    By three o’clock, she was back in bed, drinking Mai Tais and watching the little “belly telly” that DeDe and Beauchamp had given her after Edgar’s death. The afternoon movie was Summertime with Katharine Hepburn, one of Frannie’s favorites.
    During the “intermission,” a pretty young woman offered shopping tips to viewers: where to find good factory seconds in the Walnut Creek-Lafayette area. Frannie turned off the sound and poured another Mai Tai.
    When her