She refreshed her hair and makeup, changed into a fresh blouse and slacks because she'd inexplicably gotten tomato juice and seeds all over herself. They ought to be here any minute, she thought as she sat down in the living room to wait, idly flipping through a holiday crafts magazine while she tried to remember what she knew about Mel's family and why she had a sense that she and Addie weren't going to be on exactly the same wavelength. Mel didn't talk about his relations very often. His father had died young and his mother, if Jane was remembering right, had started an escort service in Atlanta. Not that kind of escort service, he'd hastily explained. A real one, driving visiting celebrities and rich business types around town. Ted Turner's television network had been God's gift to her. She invested in a limo and did the driving herself at first, then as she became more successful, she purchased more cars and hired drivers. She had eventually expanded the service to a number of Southern cities, franchising the business and traveling frequently to keep a close eye on the efficiency, courtesy, and driving skills of the drivers and the manner in which the home offices were run.
An admirable woman, Jane had thought. But now that she was about to meet Mel's mother, she had a few uncomfortable second thoughts. Jane herself had been widowed with young children and hadn't done anything nearly so impressive or financially aggressive. Thanks to life and mortgage insurance, and her own and her late husband's investment in his family's small chain of pharmacies, the profit from which hadn't died with him, she'd been able to be a stay-at-home, full-time mother. She had no regrets. Raising her children was a job that was both challenging and important to her and she felt she'd done it fairly well so far.
And her contribution to the outside world was substantial as well. She volunteered for a great many worthwhile endeavors. Once a week she drove a group of blind children to their special school that had no bus service. She served, albeit unwillingly, on the PTA board and had often allowed herself to be dragooned into being a room mother. She worked for her church and several charities and had served on the fundraising committees for a number of civic groups. But all of that might well appear pretty inconsequential to a woman who had started a highly successful business from scratch.
She heard Mel's red MG pull into the driveway — she had to get that pothole at the end of it fixed soon or his little car would disappear into it someday. She had visions of firemen lowering rope ladders into the hole. She opened the front door to greet them.
The snow was getting heavier and Mel introduced his mother while they crowded into the house, shaking snowflakes from hair and shoulders. "Mom, this is Jane Jeffry. Jane, my mother, Addie VanDyne.”
Jane was stunned. The woman hardly looked more than a couple years older than Jane herself. She had masses of curly dark hair; a valentine-shaped face without a single wrinkle that Jane could see; small, sparkling white teeth and big china-blue eyes. She was — well, there was no other word cute, in a very expensive, sophisticated way. She wore a black cashmere coat, black patent boots, and the same elegant black gloves Jane had wanted to get Shelley for Christmas but simply couldn't afford. As Addie Van-Dyne shed her coat, she revealed a slubbed silk princess-line suit that precisely matched her eyes and did wonders for her perfect figure. She even had a dimple, just like Mel's, which en‑ hanced the impression that she might just be a slightly older sister instead of his mother.
Jane wanted to run away and burn her own khaki slacks and plaid shirt.
She hung up their coats and indicated they were to make themselves comfortable in the living room. As she closed the closet door, she noticed there was an unfamiliar suitcase sitting in the hall. Mel must have brought it in. Dear God, Addie VanDyne hadn't brought them presents, had she? This possibility had never crossed Jane's mind. She'd prepared for the visit with a nice bottle of perfume and an elegant little atomizer in an Erte-like design which was wrapped in fancy red foil for Mel's mother, but that was all.
Jane had coffee and tea ready to put into the antique, but somewhat shabby, slightly dented silver service that had been a wedding present from her grandmother, and she'd arranged a plate of cookies — good ones, not the deformed elves. She filled the tray and took it into the living room.
“I thought you might like a little snack after your trip, Mrs. VanDyne. We're having quite a big dinner later.”
She expected Mel's mom to insist on being called Addie, but instead she said, "How thoughtful, Mrs. Jeffry." Was there a little emphasis on the "Mrs." or did Jane only imagine it?
Jane asked a few inane questions about Mrs. VanDyne's flight to which she got pleasant, innocuous replies. Mel tried to help. "Mom, tell Jane about the man with the dog in a carrier," he said rather desperately.
Mrs. VanDyne waved this away. "It wasn't that interesting, dear." She glanced around the room. "What a very nice little house you have, Mrs. Jeffry. I suppose these holiday decorations have some family significance.”
In other words, they look like shit but must mean something to me, otherwise I wouldn't let them see the light of day, Jane thought. No, don't get off on the wrong foot, she warned herself.
She nodded and turned to Mel. "You mentioned a little problem on the phone?" she asked meaningfully.
“My furnace has gone out and it's pretty arctic in my apartment," he said. "Mom had a bout of pneumonia last year and really can't take the cold…”
Jane saw what was coming and mentally crossed her fingers that she was wrong.
“I wondered if maybe she could camp out here with you until it's fixed," he said.
Jane realized she should have tried serious prayer instead of superstition.
“Mel, dear," Mrs. VanDyne said, "I told you I'd be happy to stay in a hotel."
“Morn, you're always complaining about how much you hate staying in hotels, since you have to do it so much of the time. Jane's got a guest room and it would only be for one night. I'm sure Jane wouldn't mind. And it would give you. two a chance to get to know each other better.”
He was smiling as if this were a great idea they'd both welcome.
Jane was running through several appealing choices of how to kill him. What nerve, dumping his mother on her without warning and right in front of the woman. And he looked so damned cheerful, as if he really believed what he was saying. And the thing was, he probably did.
“I'd be glad to have you stay here," Jane said, giving Mel an "I'll Get Even with You If It Takes the Rest of My Life" look.
“Oh, I couldn't impose on you.”
In that case, why had she let Mel bring her suitcase in, Jane wondered. "It wouldn't be the slightest imposition… Addie." If the woman was going to stay here, she was going to be called by her first name, Jane decided.
“Well, thank you. . Jane. If you're quite sure?”
Mel beamed. Jane wanted to smack him. Thank goodness she'd given the guest room, which was hardly more than a good-sized closet and usually full of craft junk, a thorough cleaning. Or maybe not. Addie wouldn't have been quite so inclined to stay if she'd had to wrestle with measuring tapes, an ironing board, quilting pins, and the sewing machine to get to the bed. And sharing a bathroom with all three kids wasn't going to be a lot of fun for her either.
Maybe I'm misjudging her, Jane thought, trying to be both fair and noble. Maybe Mel's right and we'll get to be friends by being thrown together this way. Probably not, but anything was possible.
“Mel, if you want to take Addie and her suitcase upstairs, I need to make a quick phone call and get some things into the oven.”