“Mh,” said Scarlett, recognizing a lost cause when she saw one. Then again, she had never shied away from a challenge before, and since she had plenty of time on her hands, and was bored beyond measure even after having only spent a couple of hours at Happy Home, she decided to take up the gauntlet. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do,” she said. “We’re going to build up your confidence, and we’re going to make sure that Kirsten notices you, A, and B, starts taking an interest in you so that, hopefully, C, she might start to fancy you the way you fancy her.”
“I don’t think she’ll ever fancy me,” said Isaac, showing an astounding lack of self-esteem. “I mean, just look at me, and then look at her. She’s this… ultimate goddess. And I’m just some random idiot. I’m not handsome, I’m socially awkward, and—”
“Stop right there,” said Scarlett, holding up her hand like a traffic cop. “If you’re going to have a chance with this girl, you’re going to have to change that mindset, Isaac. And I mean a full reset, young man. First off, you’re handsome… ish, okay? Though you might want to do something about your hair. Who cuts it, your mother?”
“No, my grandmother,” said Isaac. “She lives with us.”
“Right. So I’m going to send you to a friend of mine who can work magic with a pair of scissors. His name is Fido and he’s a miracle worker. Tell him I sent you and he’ll give you a discount. Secondly…” She studied his clothes, which were the usual uniform all staff members wore. It wasblue with a white stripe and looked as unappealing as any uniform does. “Well, nothing we can do about that, I suppose,” she said with a sigh. It made him look like a eunuch, but that couldn’t be helped. “Now your social skills. We’re going to work on those. But what you need the most is simply some confidence. So we’re going to work on that, too.” She patted him on the head. “This is going to be just great. Exactly what I need—I mean, what you need.”
Isaac didn’t look completely convinced, but the prospect of at the very least being on speaking terms with the object of his affection gave short shrift to his objections. And so Scarlett’s new pet project began. She tentatively called it Pygmalion, unwittingly subscribing herself to a long and proud tradition.
12
While Scarlett dedicated herself to her pet project, Vesta decided to get acquainted with some of the other residents, and more in particular with Bob Sankiewicz, the reluctant biographer. If what Max had told her was correct, and she had no reason to doubt that redoubtable feline, Henry had selected Bob to write his autobiography, which meant he was perfectly placed to provide them with some background information on Kirsten’s stalker.
She found Bob in his room, reading his paper, which he put aside when she knocked on the door and walked in.
“Thought I’d introduce myself,” she said, taking a leaf from Liz and Olivia Murphy’s page. “My name is—”
“Janelle Corr,” said Bob. “And your sister is Janette Corr. News travels fast around here,” he said with an apologetic grin. “So this is your first day, huh? Don’t worry, you’ll settle in pretty quick. My name is Bob Sankiewicz, by the way.”
“How long have you been here, Bob?” she asked, entering the room, which was pleasantly furnished with an airy touch. She suspected the man hadn’t done this himself, and since he didn’t seem to have a wife, she suspected he had female relatives who’d done the honors.
“A year, give or take,” he said. “Though it feels a lot longer, I have to tell you.”
“So you’re alone here?” she asked.
“Yeah, my wife died two years ago. I’ve been living with my daughter Sharon since.”
He didn’t say why he had decided to move into Happy Home and she didn’t ask. He probably had his reasons and whatever they were, they were of no interest to her or her mission.
“So how long have some of these other residents been here?” she asked. “Take Henry, for instance. He been here long?”
Bob’s face clouded a little. He might be Henry’s future biographer, but clearly he wasn’t a great friend. “Henry? I’d say he’s been here the longest of all the people I know. Fifteen years maybe? Kate has been here probably ten years—that’s Kate Doyle.”
“I don’t think I’ve met Kate.”
“Oh, you will.” He made a whirling motion next to his temple. “She’s not all there, and tends to get lost from time to time, both geographically and mentally. So who have you met?”
“Well, Liz and Bill Murphy and Liz’s sister Olivia were the first people who introduced themselves to us just now.”