"You handled that very well," Mimi said.
"I felt so sorry for her. Everybody staring."
"She'd been telling Shelley and me about it when you arrived," Mimi said, hanging back so she wouldn't be overheard. "She had some kind of treatment. It was supposed to preserve her youthful looks forever. You wouldn't think any body'd be stupid enough to buy that, but she was. Brains aren't her long suit. It went horribly wrong, as you can see, and apparently she won a big lawsuit against the outfit that did it to her. But the money couldn't restore her looks. It's a pity. She really was beautiful. And like many beautiful people, she didn't develop any backup. Brains or personality or anything."
"That's terrible. Poor thing."
Mimi laughed. "You'll get over being so sad about it when you've been around her a while. She's quite irritating. Her voice alone will glue your heart back together. I'm sorry. I shouldn't be saying that. She's really a thoroughly nice woman. I can carry another bag. Give me that hatbox-shaped thing."
Jane stared into the back of the station wagon. "My God, I haven't seen a hatbox since the last time I played in my grandmother's attic."
"Attic…" Mimi said. "I think that's the operative word. By the time this is over, you're going to feel like you've spent the week in somebody else's attic. Does it look to you like that cat is getting ready to drive your car away?"
Hector was standing with his front feet on the steering wheel, peering over the dashboard. His Godiva-chocolate ears were flattened to his head as if he were ready to have a crash helmet fitted.
Jane left them to their greetings and went home— after gently putting Hector out of the car. She shoved him in the front door for good measure, to be sure she didn't run over him. She was off duty until three, when she had to return and help Edgar with dinner preparations. It wasn't that he needed her, but she saw it as an opportunity to get to watch a really good cook in action. The. kids had been complaining lately about having the same stuff over and over again for dinners. Maybe she could freshen up her repertoire.
She lined up several loads of laundry, fielded a couple of phone calls wanting her to contribute to charities, buy siding, and take out a new credit card, and then she went down to her office in the basement to work on her book. Some months earlier her mother had come to visit and had wanted to take a course in writing an autobiography. Jane, not wanting to write her own, had made up a fictional person to write about and the teacher had encouraged her to continue. Jane wasn't sure it was even a real novel, or if it would ever leave her basement, but she was enjoying the experience enormously. Most of the time.
But today she found it hard to concentrate. Her mind kept going back to Shelley's classmates. She had dreaded this because she thought it would be so dull. But they hadn't proved dull at all. Scary, rather. All those emotions, presumably tucked away for years, boiling to the surface. But that wasn't fair. Some of them had seemed truly glad to see one another. When she left, Pooky and Avalon were deep in an animated discussion on the front porch. At least those two would enjoy catching up on the missing years. And perhaps others of them would have fun, too. Jane realized she was putting too much of her own spin on this reunion.
She plowed on with writing and laundry and three o'clock finally came. She'd put a casserole in the fridge with instructions to the children as to when to put it in the oven. There were chips out on the table and a saucepan with green beans (the only vegetable they all liked) sitting on top of the casserole, where it couldn't be missed. They'd probably have sodas with their meal instead of the milk she kept forcing on them, but it wouldn't kill them.
When she returned to the bed and breakfast, the other two members of the group had apparently just arrived. There was luggage in the front hallway and greetings were going on all over again.
She was introduced to Beth Vaughn and Shelley's precis came back to her. "She's a judge. Our class's most successful graduate. She's expected to be a Supreme Court nominee next time they decide it's trendy to put another woman on the court," Shelley had said. Beth Vaughn certainly looked the part. She had crisply curling, no-nonsense graying hair, cut very short. Her blue suit and white blouse were neat and sensible, as were her low-heeled shoes. She might have had a good figure, but the suit de-emphasized it, giving her a square, sexless look. Her manner was pleasant, but reserved. She had very pretty eyes, which was the only thing that kept her looking feminine.
"It's very generous of you to give up your time to help Shelley and us," she said graciously. "I hope you don't find it too boring to be marooned in among strangers."
"I'm quite used to it," Jane said, inadvertently adopting Beth's formal tone. "I was a State Department brat."
"How very interesting that must have been," Beth said warmly. "I've always regretted that I didn't have more opportunities to travel. Perhaps you can tell me more later about the places you've lived."
"And who's this? I don't recognize you at all?"
Another woman had joined them and Beth Vaughn drifted away.
"I'm not one of you," Jane said to the strange woman. "I'm Shelley's friend Jane. I'm just helping Edgar. This place isn't supposed to be open for business yet and he hasn't hired help — so I'm the help," Jane said.
"God! What a dreary thing for you! I'm Kathy Herrmannson, what was Emerson back in the old days."
This one was a mess, too. But unlike poor Pooky, who got that way trying too hard to preserve her looks, Kathy apparently never gave her appearance a thought. She was overweight in a particularly sloppy, hippy way, which was made worse by her bulgy jeans and unflattering T-shirt. Jane was reminded of one of the advice maven's words: if you can put a pencil under you breast and it stays there, you shouldn't go braless. Kathy could have tucked away a wrench. The unpleasantly distorted T-shirt was emblazoned with a faded peace symbol. Her face was pasty and free of any makeup, which was unfortunate.
"I'm glad to meet you, Kathy," Jane said.
"Does the cook know I don't eat meat?" Kathy asked.
"I have no idea. I'll go ask," Jane said, glad to escape.
She went into Edgar's beautiful kitchen and found him mincing shallots. Hector was sitting on a kitchen chair, supervising. "Do you know you've got a vegetarian out there?" Jane asked.
He shrugged. "No problem. She can just eat around the meat. I'm fixing creamed chicken in puff pastry shells and peas with nutmeg. And some old-fashioned deviled eggs. She's not one of those full-fledged no-animal-products people, is she?"
"I don't think so. It looks like she exists on macaroni and chocolates."
"Oh, the fleshy one. I noticed her. She must live in a house without mirrors. Jane, get some butter for me, would you? I need it clarified."
When Edgar figured out that Jane had no idea how to clarify butter, at least not to his standards, he suggested that she join the guests. "Just keep an eye on the snack tray. If it runs low, refill it. Refresh drinks, that sort of thing."
The women had divided up into little groups, with everybody trying to listen to everybody else's conversations. Jane approached Avalon and Mimi, who were studying a sheet of paper. Avalon's red topknot had come loose and was falling around her face, like a curtain to hide behind. She was mumbling shy thanks. Mimi looked even more serene compared to Avalon. Mimi's straight black hair, for all the hugging, looked like the lacquered hair of an exquisite Chinese doll.
"May I get you ladies something to drink?" Jane asked.
Mimi shook herTvead and gently took the paper from Avalon. "Jane, look at this lovely sketch Avalon brought along."
It was an incredibly busy pencil drawing. "It's the carriage house here, isn't it?" Jane said. "How love-