The Merchant of Menace

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.”

As they went up the stairs, Jane raced for thephone and dialed Shelley. 'Disaster,' she said softly when Shelley answered. 'Mel's dumped his mother on me. To stay at my house until his furnace is fixed!'

“He didn't!' Shelley exclaimed.

“I can't have her underfoot while I'm throwing this dinner together. Please come divert her for a little while.'

“Give me five minutes to stuff the hams into the oven and I'll be there.”

Jane had just hung up the phone when Mel came into the kitchen. 'Mom's changing her clothes. I've got to go back to my apartment and wait for the furnace people,' he said. 'I hope you don't mind keeping Mom overnight, Janey.'

“I wouldn't have minded a private warning,' Jane said frankly. 'I don't really have much free time to entertain her.'

“Oh, she won't need entertaining. She's really self-sufficient. And she's a great cook. Maybe she can help you with dinner.'

“I don't need help, Mel. I'm a good cook, too.'

“I know you are.' He paused, jingling his car keys. 'Janey, you're not pissed off, are you?'

“Aren't I?' Jane asked, heading for the garage to bring in the scalloped potato casseroles.

When she came back into the kitchen, he was looking contrite. 'I'm sorry. I got rattled and didn't think. I should have asked you first, but I didn't know I'd need to ask at all until we got to my apartment and it was freezing cold. She really did have a bad time with the pneumonia last year and—'

“I know, Mel.' She remembered when he went to visit his ailing mother. Jane had pictured Addie VanDyne as a little old lady with white hair and a frail, almost-ready-for-the-nursing-home constitution. That had obviously been a stupid assumption. Jane's own mother was older than Mel's and she was fit and sleek as a racehorse.

“Listen, Janey. I'll take her to a hotel. I'll tell her… something.'

“You'd have to tell a whopping great lie that she'd know was one,' Jane said, sliding the casserole into the oven — which she now realized she'd forgotten to preheat. 'I'm not going to throw your mother out. It's okay. It's a done deal. And, as you say, it's just for one night.'

“You really don't want her here, do you? You don't like her?”

He sounded so astonished at the very concept that Jane could think of nothing to say except, 'I'm sure I'll like her a lot, Mel. We don't even know each other yet. Now, get out of my way. I have a ton of stuff to do before the party. You are coming, aren't you?'

“The minute the furnace repair person leaves,' he said, looking cheerful again.

Jane heard Addie coming down the stairs a few minutes after Mel left. Jane had assumed that Addie had changed into more comfortable sitting-around-the-house clothing although it was too much to hope she'd opt for a sweatsuit.

Addie swished into the kitchen wearing a cherry red outfit that Jane could only think of as 'lounging pajamas.' There was a lovely self-stripe to the fabric, which draped beautifully, and Addie had added a necklace and earringsof silver and Christmas tree — green stones that Jane feared were real emeralds.

“How can I help, Jane dear?'

“You could start by loaning me your wardrobe,' Jane said.

“What?'

“Just a joke,' Jane said.

Eight

Shelley came to her rescue in fine form, engag ing Addie in light, impersonal conversation so that Jane could finish dinner preparations. Every now and then Shelley would toss Jane a question. An easy one, like 'Do you need any help?' or 'How's it going?' To which Jane could reply brightly, 'Not a bit,' or 'It's coming right along on schedule.”

As six o'clock approached, the time the carolers were to assemble, several neighbors dropped in with contributions. Sharon Wilhite made a couple trips, bringing four very expensive-looking wine bottles and a box full of plastic wineglasses. 'Hope you don't mind them being plastic,' Sharon said.

“Is there anyone on earth with thirty real ones sitting around?' Jane asked. 'Plastic is great.'

“I hear Lance King's invited to the party,' Sharon said.

“And he's been uninvited,' Jane said bluntly. 'Sorry, maybe you're a fan of his.'

“Fan? No way. He was born obnoxious. I often wonder… oh, well, never mind.”

This was the sort of conversational gambit Jane would normally have pursued avidly, but was too busy at the moment. She'd ask Sharon about it later. If she could remember.

Julie Newton brought snack mix and, to Jane's surprise, had the native wit to bring along little matched bowls the shape of Christmas trees to set around the house on various flat surfaces. Little Pet Dwyer turned up with a pan of fudge she'd made herself. It looked like a big mud pie with green sprinkles, but the women all complimented her skills effusively.

“Are you and your dad singing with the group before you come here for dinner?' Jane asked.