Grudgingly, Mrs. Hornsby motioned for Llona to sit down at the kitchen table. She poured two cups of coffee, handed one to Llona, fetched sugar and cream, and sat down opposite her daughter-in-law. “You want cookies, or something, uh...uh...uh...”
“Llona. No thanks.”
“I didn't think so. You have to watch your figure, huh? Well, if I were you, I’d do the same. Girls like you have a tendency to run to fat.”
“That’s never really been my problem.” Llona sipped her coffee and spoke again quickly before the subject of her weight could develop into an argument. “You really make the most delicious coffee,” she complimented Mrs. Hornsby. “I wish I knew your secret. Mine always comes out like mud.”
“You don’t take any trouble with it, that’s why. It’s too bad. Archer does love his coffee so. Before he married you, I told him, I said, ‘Archer, that girl will never make a decent cup of coffee. Archer,’ I said, ‘one look at what’s-her-name is all I need to know her coffee will be swamp water nine mornings out of ten.’ Well, I was right!”
“I admire your frankness.” Llona carefully kept her voice free of sarcasm.
“I always speak the truth, even when it hurts.”
“Especially when it hurts.” It slipped out.
“Some people can’t face the truth. But that’s their own fault and their own worry, not mine,” Mrs. Hornsby said pointedly.
“Yes. I suppose so. And in a way, that’s what I came to talk to you about.”
“Meaning what?”
“Well, Mother Hornsby, I’ve just had to face a very unpleasant truth about myself.”
“Which one?” Zing!
“I went to the doctor recently and-—”
“The garbage you eat, I don’t wonder 'you’re sick. It amazes me“ Archer survives. He’s always had such a delicate stomach.”
“I can’t understand that,” Llona purred. “After all, most of his life he’s had the benefit of your cooking.”
“He inherited it from his father.” Mrs. Hornsby stared her down.
“Anyway, it wasn’t my stomach,” Llona continued doggedly. “It’s my head. You see, I took this fall and-—”
“You have an unusually soft head. I saw that right away. I told Archer, I said, ‘what’s-her-name has--’ ”
“You’re right.” Llona dared to interrupt. She wanted to get to the point. “But it doesn’t matter anymore. You see, from what the doctor told me, I don’t have very long to live.”
There was a long silence. “You sure you don’t want some cookies?” Mrs. Hornsby said finally.
“No. thank you.”
“Why not? I mean, now it doesn’t make any difference, you might as well.”
“You’re all heart, Mother Hornsby.”
“Why make it easy on the pallbearers?”
“All heart . . .”
“I believe in being frank.” Mrs. Hornsby got up, fetched some cookies, and set them down in front of Llona. “Here, try these.”
“All right.” Llona nibbled at a cookie.
“How long before . . . umm . . . ?” Mrs. Hornsby asked delicately.
“A little less than a year now . . . roughly.”
“How is Archer taking it?”
“I haven’t told him.”
“That’s good. He’s got enough to worry about.”
“Yes. He does have a lot on his mind,” Llona remembered grimly.
“That surprises me. I wouldn’t expect you to be so considerate.”
Llona ignored the dig. “The thing is,” she said carefully, “I’m concerned about how Archer will get along after I—after. He’s so dependent on me and-—”
Mrs. Homsby snorted.
“Well, he is!” Llona showed her anger. “He’s like a baby. I have to do everything for him. Who’s going to --?”
“Don’t trouble yourself. He’s got a mother. I looked after him before and I’ll look after him again.”
“But you won’t live forever, either,” Llona pointed out in a voice syrupy with arsenic.
“People in glass mausoleums shouldn’t throw --"
“I’m sorry. I’m just trying to be like you. Frank and honest and truthful, you know.” Llona took a deep breath. “The thing is, I could face this better if I knew for sure that Archer would be looked after when I’m gone. I mean, when I think of how naive he is about women—”
“You should know that all right!” Zing! “Who should know better than you?” Zing! “If he hadn’t been so innocent, he never would have married you in the first place!” Zing!
“Mother Hornsby! You’re not making this any easier!" Llona controlled herself. “The thing is, since he is so naive, I feel responsible for him; For his future, I mean. And so I thought if I could find just the right girl for him-—” Llona was easing into her flanking maneuver. “I mean, who would know better than I, his wife, what sort of woman would make Archer happy after I’m gone?”
“Who would know better’? His mother! That’s who!” Mrs. Hornsby stepped into the beartrap.
“That’s really what I wanted to talk to you about, Mother Hornsby. Now I’m going to be frank and honest, just as frank and honest as you are. I know your intentions are good, but I'm here to beg you not to interfere. You’ll only set Archer back so he’ll end up married to some woman who might be fine from your point of view, but would probably be disastrous as far as Archer is concerned. I want to plead with you to realize that I know what’s best for Archer and please not to meddle.”
“Meddle!” Mrs. Hornsby sputtered. “Of all the nerve! Do you think I’m going to sit idly by and let you pick someone for Archer just like you?”
“Archer’s very satisfied with me as a wife.”
“You’ve brainwashed him! And now that there’s another chance, I’m going to do everything I can to see my son married to the right kind of woman.”
“Your ‘right kind of woman’! You could ruin his whole life! Well, I’m not going to let you! The only way you’ll get to pick Archer’s second wife is over my dead body!”
“Exactly!” Mrs. Hornshy was triumphant, unaware that the steel teeth of the beartrap had just snapped shut.
“Well, at least you won’t be able to do anything while I'm still alive. But I will. And if I have my way, the whole thing will be settled before I die. I had hoped that compassion -- if nothing else -- might make you reasonable. I had hoped that you’d agree to butt out. But I can see you’re going to make this a war. Very well then! Goodbye, Mrs. Hornsby!" Llona flounced out of the house.
“Who says I can’t do anything while she’s still alive,” Mrs. Hornsby muttered to herself, furious. She stood by the window and watched Llona drive off, her mind busy. She thought about some of the girls she knew who might be suitable for Archer. Of course, technically, he was still a married man, but with finesse that could be handled. Not that she’d approve of his having sex with another woman while Llona was still his wife. Oh, no! Mrs. Hornsby prided herself on her high moral standards. But sex wasn’t everything! As a matter of fact, it was the least important qualification for a wife for Archer as far as she was concerned . . . Yes, Mrs. Hornsby would beat Llona at her own game and she wouldn’t wait for her death to do it.
Driving away, Llona guessed at Mrs. Hornsby’s intentions and was satisfied. In terms of her influence on Archer, Mrs. Hornsby was a powerful force. As an unwitting ally, she might prove to be a powerful instrument of revenge.
But Llona was not one to put all her eggs in one Mama Hen’s basket. Just in case Archer should prove strong enough to withstand motherly pressure, Llona was prepared to see to it that his path was strewn with other potentially marriageable vixens capable of making his life hell. In line with this, her second stop was at the apartment of Mrs. Neva Holdkumb, wife of Archer’s boss.