Several cars had stopped in front of the house and their passengers were gawking at the display.
Billy Joe was gesturing at Jane and Shelley. "Y'all come take a look from the front," he bellowed.
It would have been surly to refuse. But they didn't hurry. As they reached the couple, Billy Joe reached out to shake Shelley's hand. He pumped it like a slot machine handle. "I'm Billy Joe Johnson and this here is my wife Tiffany Ann. Tiff to her friends."
“How do you do?" Shelley said, trying to gently extricate herself from his grip. "I'm—" She paused as if attempting to gather her wits and remember her own name. "I'm Shelley Nowack. I live on the other side of Jane."
“Leggo her hand, Billy Joe," Tiffany said. "Pleased to meetcha, Shelley. What do you think?"
“About what?" Shelley asked.
Tiffany laughed merrily. "Why, of the house, of course. Isn't it just the best thing?”
Shelley's mouth moved but no words came out. Jane stepped into the breach. "It's certainly — impressive. So many — things. And music, too. Oh, my.
It was a feeble attempt at courtesy, but Billy Joe and Tiffany accepted it as a compliment and beamed at each other.
A police car pulled into the Johnsons' driveway and the officer, a young woman with sleek blond hair in a tidy chignon at the back of her neck, got out and stared, bewildered, at the house for a long moment before approaching Billy Joe. "Hello there, folks," she said, her smile huge and astonished. "We got a call about a noise at this address.”
Billy Joe introduced himself and the others and said, "That was just my sound system. I guess I had it set too loud. I'm a little deaf myself, so I didn't notice. But Tiff says I damned near blew out her circuits!" He laughed uproarishly at this witticism. "Don't it look great?”
Jane felt a sudden engulfing tide of something like tenderness. These people really thought they'd created a work of art. They were proud of it and expected everyone else to like it. "I think it's wonderful," Jane said in a sudden, well-intentioned burst of mendacity. "Just wonderful.”
Billy Joe swelled with pride. Tiffany simpered. Shelley looked at Jane as if she were seeing her for the first time and was not able to quite take in the sight.
“Just keep the noise level down if you would, Mr. Johnson," the police officer said. "Merry Christmas, everybody." She got in her car and backed out of the driveway, shaking her head and smiling.
Billy Joe invited Jane and Shelley inside for some holiday punch. "And bring the young 'uns, too."
“I really can't," Jane said. "I have cookies in the oven that have probably burned up by now. And Shelley's helping me with the icing. Maybe tomorrow?”
When they got back to Jane's front door, Katie had disappeared, but Todd was still standing and muttering, "Awesome."
“Don't even think about it, Todd," Jane said. "We're not doing anything like that. A Christmas tree, a tasteful wreath or two, maybe a few lights on the tree outside. That's it!"
“But Mom, old thing, just think if there were two houses in a row just like it. And maybe Mrs. Nowack would make a third one." He cackled with laughter. "Super!”
They came inside and he bounded up the steps, yelling at Katie to get off the phone so he could call his friend Elliott to come over and look.
“You think it's 'wonderful'?" Shelley quoted in a voice of doom.
“No, it's hideous, but they were so proud of it," Jane said, shivering. "And I suddenly felt like a mother duck trying to console two ugly ducklings. Oh, Shelley, what if they decide to live here forever? It's a rental house, but sometimes renters stick around for a long, long time.”
Shelley considered the question for a moment. "We'll either have to kill them — or ourselves — or move away. Might be time to start thinking about condos.”
Jane was rummaging in the fridge, trying to find something to fix for dinner, when the doorbell rang. She found a neighbor, Sharon Wilhite, standing on the porch. "Just wondered if you needed some help getting ready for your parties," Sharon said. "How did you get conned into giving two of them back-to-back?"
“I'm still trying to figure it out, Sharon. Come in and tell me what to fix for dinner," Jane said.
“No good on that, I'm afraid. I almost never cook," Sharon said, shedding her coat and following Jane to the kitchen. She was a short blond, a bit on the buxom side, but very stylish and meticulously neat. Jane would have guessed her age to be about thirty.
Sharon looked around the kitchen as if it were foreign territory. "I don't have the time or skill for cooking and usually eat out, but I'm good with drinks."
“Drinks!" Jane exclaimed. "I haven't thought beyond coffee!"
“I'll bring along some wine, then.”
Jane didn't know Sharon well, in spite of several years of living a few doors away, but liked her anyway. She was one of the few independent, single, childless women in the neighborhood. She was an attorney who specialized in property law and commuted to work in Chicago, so she wasn't around a lot. Her income permitted her to have cleaning help, yard workers, and driveway shovelers in the winter. But she made an effort to be part of the small community, singing in the church choir and volunteering time for the city council when their concerns touched on her expertise.
“Stay for dinner?" Jane offered. "Nothing spectacular.”
Sharon shook her head. "I've got Chinese carryout ordered. In fact, I better get home and watch for it. Sure you don't need napkins, tablecloths, silverware, or something else I don't have to cook?”
When Sharon had gone, Jane fixed the kids and herself sandwiches and macaroni and cheese for dinner, went on with her baking, and started the first of many loads of washing that needed to be done. Todd put a new bag in the vacuum cleaner, which he insisted on calling "the Big Suck," in preparation for a marathon session of cleaning the next morning. Katie pitched in by devoting a full phone-free hour to cleaning every inch of the guest bathroom. This kind of cooperation and thoroughness was so astonishing to Jane that she was tempted to stand and admire the miracle of it.
Jane's mother had once told her that daughters don't get to be a pleasure to have arounduntil it's almost time to lose them and Jane was starting to see the truth in that. After a couple years of constant tears, arguments, and raging hormones, Katie was gradually turning into a very nice young woman. And in less than two years, she'd be going off to college.
Pull yourself together, you sap, Jane told herself briskly. You always turn into a blubbering wimp at Christmastime.
It didn't help that Billy Joe Johnson had his music back on. The volume wasn't nearly so deafening, although Jane could hear every lyric distinctly inside her house and suspected that outdoors it was probably intolerable. Still, she hummed along with the familiar melodies as she finished up the last batch of date-roll cookies and started packing the day's culinary output into lidded plastic containers that were intended for shoes and sweaters but were perfect for cookie storage. The floor was still sticky. She had inadvertently added some flour to the icing in her hair.
About nine there was a knock on the kitchen door. Shelley's special knock. Jane opened the door and Shelley nearly fell in. "Paul's sister Constanza is on her way over to our house. May I hide here?"
“Sure, but I was getting ready to take a shower."
“Take a shower. Take a long soaky bath if you want. God knows you need it. I'll eat cookies, watch television, and let myself out when I see her leave."
“So you didn't come for my scintillating companionship?"
“You're kidding, right?" Shelley said, shed- I ding her coat and boots. "Go bathe. Please!”
Jane took Shelley's advice and soaked luxuriously, using up a good deal of some expensive jasmine-scented bath salts she'd been saving for a special occasion. Today hadn't been special in any good way, but she needed a treat.