“Suzie, what great cookies!" Shelley said with a little more enthusiasm than was strictly polite. Suzie's box contained several dozen little iced cookies that almost looked like miniature cakes. "Did you make these today?”
Suzie burst out laughing. "Not today, my dear. Not ever. They're straight from the bakery… you know, one of those places that makes your food for you. Nobody told me I had to cook the fucking cookies in order to come to this party."
“What bakery?" Shelley questioned, squinty-eyed. "I haven't found one that does such nice stuff.”
While Suzie explained how to find the little, out-of-the-way bakery, Jane put her cookies on a serving plate. "Suzie, quick, before everybody else gets here, tell us about Whatsisname Dwyer," she said.
“Sam Dwyer," Suzie said. "I'd heard he was a widower and gainfully employed, which is enough for me to consider a man as a possible conquest. He was out in his yard one day last fall raking leaves, so I primped myself up and strolled down to chat with him. Tried to find out a bit about him, which wasn't easy because the man is a clam. But then, I'm good at opening clams. I finally got him to admit that his wife had died in a car accident when Pet was about three. Something about a road being flooded when a hurricane came through, so it was somewhere in the South. He didn't seem very sad about it and I got the impression that the marriage might have already been in trouble."
“Why is that?" Shelley asked.
“Oh, some comments he made later about how he really liked the quiet life he had here and how it was such a change. He's really pretty much of a confirmed hermit, I think, and she probably wanted a real high life — going out for dinner once a week to Denny's or something."
“What does he do for a living?" Jane inquired.
“Something with computer programs."
“Big help," Shelley said. "We knew that much."
“What can I say? Computers are a mystery to me," Suzie said. "Whatever it is, he does it at home. His main interest is Pet, though. He really adores that nerdy little girl. If a girl can be calleda nerd. Went on about her terrific grades, how she never has to be told to clean her room, how smart she is about computers, and that she's already learning to cook."
“If her fudge is an example, she's got a way to go," Jane said. "Poor little Pet. What's going to happen when she 'blossoms' and wants to get free of him? It's great that he's such a devoted father, but there's trouble ahead."
“Well, it's not going to be my trouble," Suzie said.
“You've eliminated him from the marriage stakes?" Shelley asked.
“ 'Fraid so. In spite of the Mercedes in the garage."
“He drives a Mercedes?" Jane exclaimed.
“I don't think he actually drives it, just keeps it in his garage. I only saw it because he opened the garage door to put his rake away," Suzie said. "I've never seen him leave the house, have you?"
“Come to think of it, I haven't," Jane said. "Not that I pay much attention to who's coming and going. Surely he has to go to the grocery store or the barber shop or something once in a while. He's coming to the cookie party, I think."
“No! Emerging from the clamshell to socialize?" Suzie said. "Amazing.”
Jane's mother-in-law, Thelma, was the next to arrive. Thelma didn't live in the neighborhood and theoretically shouldn't have been included. But when Jane had inadvertently mentioned the plan, Thelma had assumed Jane was issuing an invitation and there was no way for Jane to retract it. Thelma might be the bane of Jane's exis‑ tence, but she was also Jane's children's grandmother and hence, wasn't to be crossed any more often than necessary.
But today would be a landmark.
“Stay right here, you two," Jane ordered. "And agree with me — even if you don't.”
Shelley and Suzie exchanged perplexed looks, but remained in the kitchen as Thelma entered. Both had met her a number of times and artificially cheerful greetings were exchanged. Then Thelma proceeded to do just what Jane had expected.
“Jane, dear, I have a little something for you," Thelma said, rummaging in her handbag and fishing out a check. This was a temporary triumph for Thelma. She always liked delivering the monthly check in front of an audience if she could manage it.
Although Thelma liked to be Lady Bountiful in this scenario, bestowing what she pretended was a generous gift, it wasn't a gift at all. Jane's husband, his brother, Ted, and his mother, Thelma, had jointly owned a small chain of pharmacies. Early in Jane and Steve's marriage, there had been a severe financial crunch and Jane had contributed a small inheritance to the pharmacies to help keep the business afloat. Steve had insisted that under the circumstances, a contract would be drawn up to make his third of future profits Jane's as well. So, though Steve had been dead for years now, Jane was still entitled to her one-third share. Steve hadn't intended to die, of course. The contract was pure sentiment — a means of thanking his then-new wife.
But since his death, Thelma had performed the monthly ritual of giving Jane her check as though it were a present — out of the goodness of her heart. And as the years went on, Jane had become more resentful and humiliated with each presentation. But from now on, things would be different. It was Jane's own gift to herself.
She took the check from Thelma, folded it neatly, and put it in her pocket. With a smile, she said, "Thelma, that's the last time you will need to put yourself out this way."
“What do you mean?" Thelma said brightly, apparently thinking Jane meant to forgo her share of the profits.
“I talked to the bank this week and arranged to have the funds transferred automatically to my account." This wasn't strictly true. The pharmacy's accountant would have to approve it, but Jane would talk to him later. "You won't even have to bother with the check anymore.”
Thelma was taken completely off-guard. "But Jane, I like giving you the check," she said.
Jane kept her smile frozen in place. "I know you do, but I don't like it, Thelma. This will work out much better.”
Shelley threw herself into the momentary silence while Thelma was gathering her wits for a riposte. "Jane, what an excellent idea that is! How very considerate of you to save Mrs. Jeffry the trouble of hand-delivering it. And how much easier it will make the bookkeeping.”
Suzie, who had no idea of what the underlying current was, but recognizing that it was in full flood, contributed, "I have my paycheck done that way. Straight into the bank electronically. Saves all the concern about a check ever getting lost. And it's a lot easier for me and the company at tax time. All the transactions are recorded automatically and a machine just spits them out in January."
“But—" Thelma stuttered.
“It will be better for everyone this way," Jane said firmly. Very firmly.
The doorbell rang and Jane said, "Oh, more of our guests," as she left the kitchen. She paused in the front hall and did a quiet little victory dance before opening the door wearing a manic smile.
Fourteen
Two of the older ladies on the block were at the door, looking rather alarmed by Jane's excessively enthusiastic welcome. Jane saw Mel pulling into the driveway to deliver his mother. Jane ushered in the two neighbors and took their coats and cookie boxes and heard Shelley, in the kitchen, introducing Addie VanDyne to Thelma Jeffry. Wonder what they'll make of each other, Jane thought. Mincemeat, most likely.