Dorothy Parker Drank Here

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Authors: Ellen Meister
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surviving were good. Close to seventy percent.”
    â€œSeventy? Jesus, Ted, what are you waiting for?”
    â€œWith a ten to twenty percent chance of cognitive impairment.”
    â€œThat’s pretty low.”
    â€œNot to me.”
    â€œLet me take you to see this guy. Let’s hear what he has to say.”
    Ted stood. “Thanks for coming by, Salz.”
    â€œAre you throwing me out?”
    â€œI have to lie down.”
    Pete picked up the carton. “It’ll take me at least a couple of weeks to read all this.”
    â€œTake as long as you like.”
    â€œI’ll have questions.”
    â€œIf I’m alive, I’ll answer them. If I’m dead, probably not.”
    Pete didn’t laugh. “I’ll read
Louse
right away. I’ll come back on Friday so we can discuss it.”
    Ted opened the door. “Bring Hennessy.”

D orothy Parker seemed so confident they would be able to talk Ted into doing the show that Norah got swept along in the current. Now that they were on the elevator rising toward his floor, however, she felt an undertow of doubt. She didn’t disagree with the notion that deep down a part of him wanted to clear his name. She simply recognized that tapping into such a buried desire would be an enormous challenge. He had been dug in for twenty-five years, and a single conversation about appearing on
Simon Janey Live
wouldn’t change that. Dorothy Parker wanted to use the information to blackmail him into doing the show—threatening to leak the story to bottom-feeders if he didn’t agree to the interview. But Norah thought that would only enrage him.
    No, the way to use the information was through reason—to break past the unjustified loyalty he felt toward his ex-wife. How long would it take to convince him that Audrey had done a heinous thing and didn’t deserve his protection? Weeks? Months? The TV show didn’t have that long to survive. And for all she knew, neither did Ted.
    Norah closed her eyes against a vision of Ted Shriver’s funeral—ofhis coffin being lowered into the ground as her mother’s had been. She recalled that feeling of wanting to stay at the cemetery so her mom wouldn’t be all alone. “It’s time to go” her uncle had said, and all she could think was
I can’t leave her here.
Who is going to stay with her?
    â€œAre you all right, dear?” Dorothy asked.
    â€œFine,” she said, avoiding eye contact, but her companion stared at her, waiting for more. “I said I’m
fine,
” Norah repeated.
    â€œYes, of course. Silly me.”
    â€œIf I wanted to talk about it, I would talk about it.”
    â€œOne of us is willing to drop the subject, but that doesn’t seem to be you.”
    Norah pushed the already-lighted button for the twelfth floor. “Has anyone ever told you you’re exasperating?”
    â€œPart of my charm, dear.”
    The elevator stopped on seven and the doors opened.
    â€œGoing down?” asked a heavyset woman with overbleached hair, loose jowls, and an ill-advised plaid suit.
    â€œUp,” Norah said.
    The woman’s eyes fixed on the open book in Norah’s hand. “What is that?” she asked.
    Norah pushed the
Close Door
button.
    The woman blocked it and stepped inside. Norah looked around and realized she was alone. Dorothy Parker had disappeared.
    â€œWhat do you want?” she asked, backing up.
    The woman squinted at her. “Where are you going with that book?”
    â€œWhat’s it to you?”
    â€œDo you work for the hotel?”
    â€œSay yes,”
a voice whispered in Norah’s ear. It was Dorothy Parker.
    â€œYes,” said Norah.
    â€œAre you a lawyer?” the woman asked.
    â€œWhy? Does she want to sue the person who sold her that suit?”
    â€œIs there something I can do for you?” Norah asked.
    The woman folded her arms. “Don’t you know who I

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