not an assigned job, she had been on the spot for most of the jokes. Her brain was completely overloaded. But, in the interests of her relationship with Mel, she didn't say any of this. Instead, she just said, "I'm really sorry."
She'd hoped to ask him what he and the police department had found out about the women, but this wasn't the time. Besides, he was pretty good at being discreet himself. She knew what he'd say: "Jane, if a person doesn't have any criminal record, they hardly exist as far as we're concerned. I
can
dig up everything on a person's life, but not until I have them identified as a strong suspect." They'd had this conversation once before.
So she let him go, still angry, and went to help Edgar with lunch preparations. "We're almost done," Edgar said. "Only a light supper tonight; they're going to a cocktail party at the community center." He shuddered at the thought of what kind of foodstuffs would be served at the community center. "So for lunch we'll have baked sole, a nice Welsh rarebit, and a Boston lettuce salad with a lime/yogurt dressing. All fairly light and feminine. Then tonight, I thought chili and sandwiches. That's macho. Lots of celery and crackers. Cheeses and onions on the side."
"I'd reconsider the beans," Jane said.
Edgar laughed. "I'll go easy on the beans. Is Shelley
ever coming back?"
"Not if she's smart," Jane replied.
They'd just started cleaning up lunch when the
phone rang and Edgar handed it to Jane.
"Oh, Mom!" Katie wailed.
"What's wrong!"
"I forgot my gym shoes!"
.. Jane let out her breath, relieved. "I'll run home and get them. You be watching for me at the front door."
"Run along," Edgar said. "I can finish this up. And I don't need you back for dinner. I can manage it fine by myself."
Jane made a pitiful, insincere offer to come back anyway, but Edgar brushed it off and she took her chance to escape.
Katie bounded out to the car when Jane arrived at the junior high. "Guess what, Mom! Jenny and I have
dates
tonight!"
"No, you don't."
"Now, Mom, just listen for a minute. Jenny's dad is driving and it's okay with Jenny's mom."
This surprised Jane. Jenny's mother was as determined as Jane that the girls wouldn't date until they were thirty-five if she could manage it. "Jenny's mother agreed to this?"
"Yes, she says it's okay. Just talk to her, Mom. It's this really neat guy and, Mom, you have to face the fact that I'm
not
a child anymore."
It was tempting to point out that Katie was the living definition of a child, but Jane just said, — "I'll talk to Jenny's mother. Do not take this as agreement."
But she had; she went tearing off like a happy gazelle. Jane glanced around, preparing to pull out, and noticed Shelley's car. And a second later, Shelley coming out of the school. Jane waved and went to meet her. "What are you doing here?"
"Some idiot decided this was a perfect day to annoy me about the children's vaccinations. I had to take a record to the office."
"You don't look very rested," Jane said.
"Rested! I'm the top contender for PMS Poster Girl! By the way, you don't need to go with me to that damned thing at the community center tonight."
"Geez, Shelley, I hadn't planned to. You seem to have come out of your shell."
"Shell? If I had a shell left, I'd use — it to brain somebody with."
"There, there," Jane soothed. "As they say in the delivery room: It's almost over."
"With just the worst to come," Shelley said with a laugh.
16
"Hazel, have you lost your mind?" Jane was saying a few minutes later to Jenny's mother.
"Jane, where have you been? I've been trying to get you for two days. No, this is great. Wait till you hear. Come in."
"Can't," Jane said.
They sealed on the little wrought iron bench by the front door. "All right, here's the deal. These little boys asked them out to a movie. It's one of those dreadful male things. Two hours of driving around in fast cars and shooting and gallons of testosterone sloshing everywhere. Howard wants to see it too — I'll never understand men — so he agreed to take the four of them. Don't you see—?"
Jane was smiling. "The girls will hate the movie, hate the boys, hate having a parent along and, with any luck, will hate the idea of ever having another date."
"Right! I knew you'd appreciate the plan!"
"I do. But it's still the thin edge of the wedge—"
"Jane, they don't have nunneries anymore that you pop daughters into."
"More's the pity. Okay. I'll go along with it. But if this doesn't work, you'll have to adopt Katie."
"I'd be glad to. We could just trade. I'm so pleased that the girls settled their differences. Jenny was ruining life as we knew it. Her brother and father were both threatening to run away from home. And I was helping them pack. You're sure you can't come in for a bit?"
"No, I've got to run."
Jane made her next stop the mall and headed for the Foundations section of the anchor department store. A towering, substantial platinum blond was waiting on two elderly ladies, ringing up their purchases. "I think you'll enjoy these, ladies, and if there's any problem, just bring them back. Bye, now," she said, watching after them and waving sweetly as they departed.
"If they bring those goddamned corsets back, I'll choke their scrawny necks," she added to Jane. "So, how's life treating you, Janie? You still dating that hunky cop?"
"More or less. Listen, before another customer grabs you, Suzie, were you here yesterday around noon?"
"Eternally. I'm part of the decor these days. There are people who claim I was just standing here one day in the middle of a field and they built the shopping center around me."
"Do you remember an out-of-town customer, late thirties, very stylish, bought a whole bag full of stuff?"
"A very expensive bag. I'll say. Friend of yours?"
"No, of Shelley's. I just gave her a lift."
"She said someone had stolen her underwear as a joke. Strange kind of joke, if you ask me," Suzie said. "Oops, just a sec. Got to flog some boob baskets."
Jane waited until Suzie was through showing industrial strength underwear to another customer, then sidled back up to her. "Here's the question, Suzie. Did you notice if the woman put something else in the bag?"
"Let me think." Suzie closed her eyes, concentrating. "Oh, yeah. She had this red notebook she kept
farting around with. Reading while I was ringing stuff up. Trying to shove in her purse, but it didn't fit. I think she tossed it in with the undies. Yeah, I'm sure she did. Why in the world do you care?"
"I don't know. I just wondered. You didn't happen to see what was written in it, did you?"
"Jane, do I look like I've got time or reason to care? Sorry, but I gotta get back to work. Give that VanDyne one for me."
"One what?"
"Whatever you're giving him," she "said with a lewd wink.
So Crispy was telling the truth about putting Lila's notebook in the shopping bag,
Jane thought as she went back to her car. Did it follow that the rest of the story was true? That she'd put the shopping bag on her bed, gone away, and returned to find the book gone? And what about her story about its containing only boring notes? Would Lila have been so frantic to get it back if that were the case?
Then Jane remembered the last time she'd priced car insurance. If she'd lost her notes and had to go through the whole confusing mess again, she'd have been frantic, too.
Preparing for Katie's date was like preparing for Desert Storm. The first requirement was a shopping blitz after school that cost the earth and left Jane hurriedly turning up a hem on a totally inappropriate dress at the last minute. She and Katie got into a slanging match over false eyelashes, which Katie lost, and about perfume, which Katie won.
"Mom! The kitchen's a mess!" Katie screamed at a quarter of seven. "What if they come in to get me?"
"Let me point out that I didn't make the mess," Jane said, exhausted and snappish. "And they won't come in because we will be standing at the door waiting when they drive up."
"We?
We!
Mom, you wouldn't—"
"I am meeting your date. Final."
Jenny was as dolled up as Katie, and in spite of her irritation, Jane got a lump in her throat looking at the two girls. They looked so cute and happy. The boys were already deep into an anticipatory discussion of the movie, making revving noises at each other. Jenny's dad was sitting behind the steering wheel, grinning. "We're going to the movie and then to Baskin-Robbins. I'll have her back by about ten," he said to Jane.
"Mom, can I go to Elliot's house and sleep over? He's got a new game and his mom said she'd take us for pizza," Todd said as she came back to the house.
"I guess so. Where have you been?"
"Hiding in the basement," Todd admitted. "All that girl stuff, ickkkk!"
Mike was asleep on the sofa. Jane turned off the television and he came awake as if he'd been nudged with a cattle prod. "What are you doing tonight?" Jane asked.
He rubbed his eyes furiously. "Nothing. Gotta study. Geez, Moni, I'm sick of school and I'm having to bust my buns this year just so I can go to school for another four years."
She sat down on the sofa and leaned against him. Willard, afraid somebody other than him was going to get petted, crawled up with them and tried to spread himself over both their laps. "It's the pits, isn't it?" she said sympathetically. "Want carryout Chinese for dinner?"
"Sounds good. You order while I take a shower and I'll pick it up. Get off me, Willard-Billard!"
The dog followed him upstairs.
Jane waited until the shower stopped running before ordering. As Mike backed out of the driveway, she stood watching and thinking. That was something else she was going to have to deal with soon. A car for Mike. Her wealthy mother-in-law Thelma kept offering — threatening — to buy him one. But it would be of her choosing and Mike was terrified of what she might get. "Mom, it'll be some awful old-lady car! Worse yet, she'd get herself something new and give me that big gray battleship she drives. I'd never live it down," he'd wailed when he heard of the offer. Jane didn't like the idea of being beholden to Thelma because Thelma was' the sort who made sure you never forgot you were beholden.
Jane had to have more money. Her late husband's life insurance had all gone into trust funds for the kids — they had more assets than she did and she didn't have to worry about money for college. But she did have to get by day to day on part of Steve's share of the family pharmacy chain's profits. His share was equal to his mother's and brother's even though he wasn't alive and working there anymore, but Jane doggedly put half of it back into the trust funds. It really was the kids' money more than hers. The worst thing about that pharmacy money was that she had to accept it by hand from Thelma every month, who bestowed it grudgingly, like a gift that was far too good for the recipient.
That was part of the reason she was working— fitfully — on her book. Not that she really dreamed of ever making any money on it. Well, she did dream of it, but didn't take the dreams seriously. She'd also
been checking books out of the library lately about real estate. Everybody told her the market was not booming at the moment, but if it got better, being a realtor might not be a bad choice. She could get out and meet people, which didn't happen when she was in her basement working on the novel. And it offered some independence. She'd love to say to Thelma, "Check? Oh, that check! I'd forgotten." She'd laugh merrily and stuff it in her purse without looking at the amount.
She was still engaged in this happy fantasy when Mike came back with the food. They ate off the coffee table in the living room, Mike channel-surfing the whole time with the remote control. After Jane cleaned up dinner, she got a jigsaw puzzle out and dumped it on the coffee table. "Got time to help me sort out the edges?" she asked.
"Sure. Calculus can wait." Mike said.
Within minutes Meow was daintily picking her way through the puzzle, sniffing pieces. "I forgot," Jane said. "This is the one the cats like."
"I think Todd put a tuna fish sandwich down on it once. Right on the barn. They always go for the red pieces."
They sorted edges, rescued red pieces from the cats, and watched television for a while. "How come you aren't over at what's-it tonight?" Mike asked, fitting two long sections together.
"The reunion? Shelley let me off duty."
"I don't get it. Reunions," Mike said. "Once I'm through with high school, I'm gonna be through. There's nobody I'll want to see again."
"Not even Scott?"
"Oh, I'll never get rid of Scott," Mike said with a laugh. "But we aren't friends 'cause we go to school together. We're just friends."
"But you wouldn't really go to a reunion?"
"What's the point? Those are the people who knew you when you were a dumb kid. I want to really be somebody, without a bunch of people reminding me how I accidentally dumped a lemonade all over my first date, or having a good laugh about putting the mouse in my tuba and I threw up when I discovered I'd been blowing the thing around in there. Or how I failed my driver's test because 1 ran a red light—"
"Mike! You told me you failed the written part!"
"I lied, Mom. It was for your own good," he added with a grin. "But, geez, who wants to be reminded of that stuff?"
"I don't understand reunions either," Jane admitted. "But then, I didn't go to one school for long enough to even remember my classmates. I think, though, that some people like them for just the reason you said. They grew up and got to be 'somebody' and they come so that everybody else will know it. And the ones who didn't become somebodies probably come so they can pretend that they are."
"Waste of time," Mike pronounced judgment. "I figure this is the worst time of my life. At least this week is. It's gotta get better and I don't want to relive this. Todd said he heard one of those women died. I told him he was full of it."