A Farewell to Yarns

chrysanthemum. Underneath it on the floor was a needlepointed bag about the same dimensions as a briefcase. On the front, in satin stitch, were the initials P.F.W. 'I bet he didn'teven see this. If I were carrying important papers or extra emergency money, this is where I'd keep them. I wonder if the police noticed it.”

Jane took the largest suitcase off the bed, and they sat down. Shelley slid the contents of the case out. The largest item was, of all things, a well-thumbed high school yearbook—an old one from a school in Pennsylvania. 'Imagine your yearbook being so important you'd carry it around,' Shelley said sadly. 'I don't even know where mine is, and I don't care.'

“I don't have one,' Jane said. 'I graduated from a school in Washington, D.C. that I'd only attended for the last semester. I think that was between Egypt and Germany.'

“Look at this,' Shelley said, flipping through the pages. 'She not only carried it around, it's nearly worn out. She must have actually looked at the thing often. Why does that break my heart?'

“Because it's so typically Phyllis. What's in the envelopes?”

The first and thinnest of the two manila envelopes contained various documents; some papers having to do with Bobby's adoption and a number of pictures of him. Bobby sunbathing, Bobby diving, Bobby lounging on a deck chair, Bobby leaning on a balcony rail. In every one of them he had an arrogant smirk, as if thinking. Look where I am, world!

There were also some insurance papers, Phyllis's passport, her birth certificate, Bobby's passport, and a few faded old photos of a middle-aged woman with hat, hair, and clothes that looked like the picture was taken in the middle sixties. She looked like the kind of woman who really belonged on a farm, making pies. 'I bet that's her aunt, the one who took her in. She died a few years ago. See, here's a clipping of the obituary notice,' Jane said.

There were a lot of pictures of Chet, too, and Jane realized with a shock that he was really quite dynamic and youthful looking. Nothing like the grim, unremarkable man on the evening news. There were candid shots of the two of them dancing, sailing, swimming, playing shuffleboard on a cruise ship. One was a studio portrait of the two of them in silhouette, looking into each other's eyes. Sort of overdramatic and silly but touching just the same, because the look of love they were exchanging was obviously so genuine.

“I'm sorry we looked in this,' Jane said. 'It's like peeping into someone's bedroom window.' She stacked the contents and slipped them back into the envelope.

The second envelope, the one that bulged, was full of knitting patterns, some clipped magazine articles about various crafts, and a plastic palletlike holder strung with samples of several dozen colors of yarn. Folded into a thick bundle were numerous letters and order forms for fabrics and fibers from places all over the world. There was also a long, flat, embossed leather case that opened to reveal a complete set of knitting needles in every size.

“Wicked looking things, aren't they?' Shelley said, gathering everything up to put back in the bag.

“If I were carrying around money, I'd haveput it with the other legal documents in that first envelope, wouldn't you?' Jane said. 'Probably,' Shelley said. As she rose to put the displaced suitcase back on the bed, she stopped and peered out the front window. 'Somebody's stopped in front of the house.'

“Damn! With my luck, it's either Mel Van-Dyne or my Uncle Jim. Either one of them will have a fit if they find me here snooping around.'

“I think it's too late to escape. Two men are coming to the front door.”

Jane stood up. 'Might as well go down there and get chewed out and have it over with. Someday I'm going to write the definitive work on how to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Sixteen •  

Jane hesitated on the stairs, realizing it wasn't  her house or her place to go to the door. But after a moment, when there was neither sound nor sight of Bobby, Shelley gave her a little shove, and they went down together. The door opened, however, before they reached it. Chet and John Wagner came in, John pocketing a key. Chet looked like a strong man who'd lost a war. So must General Lee have appeared      grim, gray, and rigid, held together by dignity alone. John Wagner was keeping close to him, one hand hovering, ready to take his elbow to steady his father as if he were a fragile old man. John had the air of a man thrust uncomprehendingly into a nurturing role and extremely uncomfortable with it.

Jane stepped forward with her hand outstretched. 'Chet, you probably don't remember me from the old days; I'm Jane Jeffry.”

He took her hand in a firm grip and held it between both of his square, well-manicured hands. 'Of course I remember. You haven't changed at all,' he said with a feeble attempt at chivalry.

“I'm afraid I have. It's a long time and three children later.'

“Two boys and a girl,' Chet replied. 'Mike, Todd, and—'

“—Katie,' she said, her voice quivering. How incredible that he would know and remember her children's names. She embraced him. 'Oh, Chet, I'm so sorry about Phyllis.'

“At least she had you at the end. That means a lot to me. She was so fond of you,' he said.

“Phyllis was a dear, wonderful person,' Jane said honestly. Pulling away, she blinked back tears and said, 'Oh, I'm sorry. This is my friend Shelley Nowack. Shelley, this is Chet Wagner and his son. John, we came over to go through Phyllis's belongings. They're almost all packed.'

“Keep them, Jane,' Chet said.

“Oh, no. I couldn't do that.'

“It's what she'd want. It's what I want.”

Jane caught a glimpse of John Wagner's surprised expression. Surprised and not at all pleased. 'That's very nice of you, Chet, but we can talk about it later. I think in the meantime John ought to take the suitcases to his house. Just until things are settled.”

They were all still standing around in front of the door. Nobody knew quite what to do next. This was probably Chet's house, legally, but he'd never been in it before. Shelley took things in hand. 'I don't know where Bobby's gotten to. He was here when we came in. Why don't we all sit down?' Assuming the hostess role with a heavy-handed firmness, she shepherded everyone into the dining room, there still being no living room furniture. She and Jane hastily cleared away the rubble on the big table.

They were barely seated when there was the sound of a door opening somewhere else in the house and a toilet flushing. The nasty jerk, Jane thought. He probably hadn't even used the toilet, just flushed it to make a rude noise. A moment later, Bobby ambled into the room and stood leaning negligently against the dining room door frame. 'Company's come, huh? Hi, John. Hi, Chet.”

There was a stunned silence for a minute, then Chet stood up. Color had come to his face, and he suddenly seemed the 'leader of industry' the press called him. Jane was astonished at the degree and suddenness of the change. 'Don't you 'Chet' me, boy,' he said in a ringing tone that all but knocked Jane back in her chair. 'I'm certainly not your friend, and you can no longer claim the most tenuous relationship with me or my family. I'm Mr. Wagner to you, you punk.”

For once, Bobby seemed shaken out of his in-control, arrogant pose. 'But Phyllis was my mother, Chet.'

“A biological accident. Nothing more. You had no claim on her, and you most assuredly have none on me. The only time I ever want to hear about you again is when I read in the newspaper that you've been duly convicted of her murder.'

“Me? Get off it, Chet. I seen the news tonight. You're the one gonna fry for that.”

John Wagner, silent until now, suddenly rose and, muttering incoherently, lunged at Bobby. But Chet was faster. He grabbed his son's arm.'Don't touch the slimy little bastard. We'll just let the lawyers fuck him over. That's what they're paid for. Excuse me, ladies....”

Jane had an hysterical urge to giggle at the absurd incongruity of his apologizing for his language under the circumstances. She was surprised that he even remembered she and Shelley were present. She was also quite appalled that they were present. Intellectual snooping was one thing, but they had no business in the middle of a private emotional crisis like this. Coming to this house had been one of her bigger mistakes. These men were on the brink of violence, and Jane was terrified of what might happen. For the first time, it really came home to her that it was very likely one of these men was a murderer. And she and Shelley were witnessing something they shouldn't. But she was like an animal caught in the headlights of an oncoming car— horrified but unable to move.

Bobby seemed to feel he'd gained the upper hand again. 'We'll see who's fucked over when Phyl's will turns up.'

“Will? My wife's will is in the safe deposit box with mine, and I can assure you it's none of your concern,'