alice was bored.
she had been bored a lot lately.
alice had always been bored as a child, and as a young girl.
but after coming out as a deb, and going away to school, and meeting and marrying baron, and helping baron in his long and more or less successful career, and participating in and sometimes chairing so many activities, she had not been bored quite so much.
but now she was getting old and was starting to get bored again.
alice thought of herself as “getting old” but uncharitable or tactless fellow humans might have described her as already old, and as having been so for a while.
in any case she felt bored quite a bit lately, and though she barely admitted it to herself, somewhat lonely.
one morning alice was sitting in the park, staring into space. she had a book with her, but had not been able to find it interesting.
a young woman was sitting on the bench next to alice’s. she reminded alice of herself as a young woman, though she was a bit thinner, and had blonde hair, not brown.
the young woman was reading a book, a hard covered book, and the book was by ngaio marsh, who was one of alice’s favorite authors.
i could not help noticing, alice addressed the young woman, that you are reading a book by ngaio marsh. she has always been one of my favorite authors, though not as well known as she should be.
yes, she is one of my favorite mystery authors too, the young woman replied, so much better, i think, than agatha christie or dorothy sayers.
the ice thus broken, alice and the young woman fell into conversation. her long years of accompanying baron to dinners and fundraisers, and attending them by herself, had left alice with great ease in conversing with strangers of all sorts.
the young woman with the novel by ngaio marsh introduced herself as bathsheba benson, and described herself to alice as an investor and financial consultant.
alice was well aware that young women now engaged in such activities, and had for some time, but was still always a bit amazed at meeting one face to face.
alice invited bathsheba to lunch. they discovered they had quite a bit in common.
they began seeing each other with some regularity, for lunch or shopping, and sometimes went to the movies or the theater.
alice was not wealthy, but baron, who had had a few reverses before his death, had left her a comfortable nest egg of forty or fifty million dollars.
bathsheba offered to invest some of alice’s money for her, and alice gratefully accepted the offer. they agreed that it was not necessary to inform fred simmons, alice’s and baron’s regular banker, of bathsheba’s efforts on alice’s behalf.
things went on in this way. then alice died in her sleep.
alice and baron had never had children, but alice had a nephew, paul jones, who occupied his days as an attorney and who had expected to inherit whatever she left.
alice had left a note for paul describing her friendship and relationship with bathsheba. paul found the basic fact of the friendship confirmed by megan, alice’s longtime maid.
paul’s reaction can well be imagined. he contacted fred simmons, who was even more horrified than paul.
after the proper preliminaries had been gotten through, fred simmons and paul were able to look at alice’s assets.
they were now worth four point three billion dollars.
can this be true? paul exclaimed.
fred simmons cleared his throat. i had not wanted to say anything , he explained, as i thought - was in fact virtually certain that the woman known to alice as bathsheba benson was an impostor - but there is in fact a bathsheba benson who has made quite a name for herself on the street. started out at meredith, mayfair, and hodges but has since struck out on her own.
so this is all legitimate? paul asked.
probably. of course we will have to check it further, make absolutely sure. and needless to say, fred continued, you realize that four point three billion dollars is not what it used to be.
i know, said paul, but i’ll take it.
