The Merchant of Menace

her freshly washed sheets. After trying to read for a few minutes, she gave up and turned off the light.

But the room didn't get dark.

She sat back up, confused. Then she realized that one of her bedroom windows was on the Johnson side of the house and the blaze of light from their decorations illuminated her room as if it were broad daylight. She staggered over and pulled down the shade. Not much help. She dragged the drapes across the window. That was a little better. She'd have to get new ones tomorrow that were heavily lined. Great. One y to keep track a to hire of all her boring, a secretaryneces- r sary errands.

Back in bed, Jane dropped off into sleep halfway through 'O Come All Ye Faithful.”

Three

Jane was up early the next morning and got a little more cleaning done before even waking Todd and Katie. The clouds had cleared and it was a brilliantly sunny day. Rats, she thought. This meant she had to let Katie drive to school. Katie had her learner's permit now and was mad to get her hands on a steering wheel at every opportunity, but the rule, so far, was that she could only drive on dry streets. Jane wasn't up to teaching her the rigors of snow or rain driving yet. Teaching Katie, however, was easier than it had been to teach Mike. For one thing, Jane had anticipated it with Katie. With Mike she'd always assumed his father would take this duty, but her husband had been killed in a car accident before driving lessons had been necessary.

Mike had been a curb-hugger, nearly nipping off a number of mailboxes and joggers before he learned where the car should be. Katie got the car in the right place on the road and didn't seem to have any urge to speed. But she complained constantly and bitterly about the car itself. Jane couldn't really blame her. The beat-up old station wagon really was a disgrace. It was ten years old now and had spent those years hauling innumerable car pools — little kids bouncing all over the backseat, bigger ones who dropped potato chips and gum on the carpet and periodically spilled soft drinks. The exterior hadn't fared much better and although Jane was pretty good at avoiding falling in the pothole at the end of the driveway, the pothole was turning into an ever-widening chasm that occasionally snagged the undercarriage. Jane was wondering if it might not be cheaper to buy mufflers by the dozen.

“I can drive today, can't I?' Katie said, bounding into the kitchen. 'Oh, my gosh! What happened to the kitchen? It's clean!'

“Mrs. Nowack cleaned it for me last night as a surprise. A very nice surprise,' Jane admitted.

“Wish I had friends like that,' Katie said. 'Wonder if I could persuade Jenny to clean my room.'

“I wouldn't count on it. You remember I took care of Mrs. Nowack's dog for a whole week while they were out of town. Jenny might stick you with an even bigger payback. Todd! Hold it,' she added as he came into the kitchen and headed for the refrigerator. 'If you spill so much as a drop or crumb in here, you'll be grounded until you're of voting age.”

He looked around in wonder. 'Hey, it's clean in here!'

“You don't need to sound that amazed,' Jane groused. She wondered if she ought to put a drop cloth under the table.

When she returned from getting Katie to school, Todd's car pool had picked him up and Jane was pleased to discover that he'd heeded her warning. The kitchen was still spotless except for a cardboard milk carton on the table. She gave Shelley a call, thanking her effusively for cleaning up for her.

“Oh, Jane, quit being so mushy. You know that my deepest, darkest secret is that I love to clean. Just don't let anybody else know. Need any more help?'

“No, I think I've got a handle on it. I've got lists of things to do all over the house.'

“You and your lists!' Shelley laughed. Jane was a compulsive list-maker, often breaking a single job down into components so she had more items to check off to bolster her sense of accomplishment. Sometimes, when she did something that wasn't on the list, she added it for the sole purpose of striking through it.

“If I don't have my lists, I just sit in a stupor, wondering what I'm supposed to be doing,' Jane said. 'But now I've got to start marking things off. Talk to you later.”

The caroling party was to be the next evening, so she had two days to prepare. Cleaning the house and getting out the holiday decorations were the first orders of business, but there was shopping and cooking to be done, as well as bill-paying, carpooling and all the other normal, time-consuming chores. She was looking for where the toilet brush had deliberately hidden itself when the doorbell rang.

Julie Newton stood on the front porch, staring at the Johnsons' house. She was so stricken by the sight that she didn't even notice when Jane opened the door.

“Decorative, isn't it?' Jane said.

Startled, Julie gasped, 'I've — I've never seen anything quite like it.'

“Come in before you freeze,' Jane said.

Julie did as she was told, following Jane to the kitchen. 'I have the most exciting thing to tell you,' she said, shedding her coat and stocking cap, her fingers making dainty darting motions at her hair to fluff it. Julie Newton, Jane thought, would be cute all her life. She was the perky kind of woman who never seemed to age. Her eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled, which was most of the time, and she was always in motion. Fluffing her hair, gesturing enthusiastically as she spoke, swinging a leg when she was seated, and almost bouncing when she walked. A regular bundle of energy.

Jane offered her coffee or tea. Julie chose tea and squealed with delight at the sight of the plate of cookies Jane set on the table. 'How darling! Jane, you're so clever!”

That's how she gets people to do things they don't want to, Jane thought. With flattery.

“Uh — what are these green ones supposed to be?' Julie asked.

“Elves. Don't ask. What's your news?”

Julie jiggled around in her chair with delight. 'Oh, Jane. It's so neat! You know who Lance King is?'

“Lance K— oh, yes, that 'action reporter' on television. What's so exciting? Did somebody bump him off?'

“Bump him off? Oh, Jane, you're joking, right? You're so funny!'

“What about Lance King?'

“Well, you know he does all those reports on unfair stuff. Crooked businesspeople and sham charity organizations and all? But he sometimes hosts the regular nightly news from special events.'

“Yes, I know.”

Julie was quivering with excitement and looked like she was about to explode with the thrill of it all. 'Well, Jane. We are going to be his special event tomorrow night!' Her voice was almost a shriek of joy.

“What?' Jane asked, appalled.

“Yes, it's true. He's going to anchor the news from your house! From your very own house!”

“Oh, dear God…' Jane whimpered.

“Isn't it fabulous? I knew you'd be so excited.'

“Julie, I don't think that's—' Jane started to bleat.

“No, don't thank me. It was a pleasure to do it. I just took myself in hand and said, 'Julie Newton, there's nothing to stop you. The worst that can happen is that he'll say no,' and so I just called the television station and they actually put me through to him. I told him about the neighborhood caroling party and even suggested it would be a nice change, to do a 'revealing' piece about something that went right instead of wrong. I told him all about the neighbors, what nice, interesting people they all are—'

“You told him all about us?' Jane asked.

The thought made her stomach hurt. She, and many others, thought Lance King was far and away the most obnoxious individual who ever got in front of a television camera. He was the expert at the surprise attack, taking a camera crew to some unsuspecting individual's home or place of business, shoving his way in, and asking 'Do you still beat your wife' questions and berating the victim, barely skirting FCC regulations on obscene language issues. If he'd really only taken on genuine crooks and rip-off artists, it might not have been so offensive. But as often as not, he was simply dead wrong in his accusations. He'd be back on a week later, making a patronizing apology that always managed to be every bit as insulting as the original interview.