She started to get her purse from the kitchen

when she heard the sound of hurrying feet on the

stairs. “I smell Wienie Wizards!” cried Ellie Linn.

“Yum, yum!”

In a flurry, Judith scooped the hot dogs off the floor

and dumped them into a crystal bowl. “They’re nice

and warm. Be our guest.”

“I already am.” Ellie giggled, her dark eyes shining

with delight. “Mmm . . . my faves!” She immediately

pitched in, grabbing four wieners and four buns at

once.

Finally reaching the kitchen, Judith dialed Arlene’s

number.

“What food?” Arlene asked in a puzzled voice.

Judith reminded her neighbor about the large order

220

Mary Daheim

from the caterer. “I thought you wanted some of it for

your family dinner tonight.”

“What family?” Arlene asked. “They canceled.

They all decided to stay home because of Halloween.”

“Rats!” Judith muttered. “Okay, sorry to bother

you.”

“Why don’t you freeze it?” Arlene suggested.

“Frankly,” Judith said, “we’re running out of room

in the freezer. But you’re right, I’ll try to squeeze in

some of the items that won’t keep.”

By the time she returned to the living room, Renie

was finally hanging up the phone. Ellie Linn had disappeared, apparently going upstairs to savor her Wienie Wizards.

“Guess what?” Renie said, looking dazed.

Bill and Joe barely looked up from their places on

the matching sofas. The TV screen showed Nazi planes

swooping over England. Bill had one eye on the set

and the other on his chart, which was spread out over

the coffee table. Sweetums was weaving in and out between his ankles, the cat’s great plume of a tail swishing back and forth.

“Go away,” Bill snarled under his breath, “or I’ll

turn you into cat chowder.”

“What is it?” Judith asked of Renie.

Bill spoke up before his wife could answer. “Get

this damned cat out of here. And I could use a purple

pen.”

Renie swooped down, grabbed Sweetums, and

made a face at Bill. “The marker pens are under your

chart, Galileo.” She moved away, unceremoniously

dumping Sweetums near the entry hall.

“My mother actually read The Gasman, ” Renie de- SILVER SCREAM

221

clared. “So, of course, did my father. He made her read

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