the deal.'
'He didn't exactly mean to die and leave it to me,' Jane said. 'But I'm glad it was written that way. And it's finally allowed me to get the college funds set up and spend a bit on myself.'
'It must break Thelma's heart,' Jim said, rubbing his hands together. He'd harbored a strong dislike for Jane's mother-in-law for decades.
'I'm not so sure. Steve's brother Ted's wife, Dixie, still hasn't had the baby they so desperately want, and Thelma's crazy about grandchildren. Not so crazy about me, though. I think if I hadn't had the kids when Steve died, she'd have tried to contest the contract.'
'She wouldn't have gotten anywhere with that,' Jim said. Changing the subject, he asked, 'So how are your folks doing in Denmark?'
'They must be fine,' Jane said. 'I haven't had an E-mail from them for the last week. This trip is just a vacation. Not a diplomacy job.'
'Speaking of jobs, how are you filling your free time?' Jim asked.
Jane laughed. 'You wouldn't believe what Shelley's trying to get us into. A feminist home renovation. Don't look at me like that, Uncle Jim. We haven't agreed to do it yet. Shelley's rewriting the contract they offered us and really jacking up the perks.'
'What in the world do the two of you know about renovating?'
'We're just to be the decorators.'
Jane explained about Bitsy and her influx of money. About Sandy. About Jack and Henry. With a couple of days of not thinking about it, it seemed outrageously funny even to her. But when she got to the story of the spoiled shrimp in the air ducts, Jim asked, 'Did anyone 'fess up?'
'Nope. Not that I know of. The furnace guy who'd done the duct work was furious.'
'Of course
'I don't know. Bitsy thinks her ex-husband is responsible. That must have been one of the nastiest divorces in history. Aside from a few of Henry the Eighth's that come to mind.'
'I'd be careful of taking this job if I were you,' Jim said. 'I don't want to overstep my bounds, but that's my advice.'
'I think I agree. The contract we were given wasn't even grammatical. And Shelley says it's outrageously stingy. But if she can put over the one she's working on, it could be fun for us and very profitable.'
'I thought you were just talking about already being financially comfortable.'
'Comfortable. Just barely. But who in their right mind wouldn't like a bit more money to spend?'
'You don't say that with conviction,' Uncle Jim said with a smile. 'Cough up what this is really about.'
'It'll sound silly to you. You have a job. But, Uncle Jim, my job has always been to raise my kids to be independent when they're grown, and I'm almost there. Katie will go to college next year and Todd a couple of years later. I've had my full share of club and volunteer work. I don't want to turn into one of those women who consider bridge night or bingo tournaments with a bunch of their peers the highlight of the week.'
Uncle Jim patted her hand. 'I do understand, Janey. That's why I'm still plugging away, even though I'm only a desk jockey these days. It isn't the money. It's the pride and challenge of doing something well enough to be paid.' He leaned back from the table. 'Now, darlin', what's for dessert?'
Ten
Bright and early Monday morning, Shelley was at Jane's door. 'Let's fortify ourselves with a good breakfast and then tackle Bitsy.'
'You're doing the tackling, right? I'm just the cheering section. I hope.'
'I'll be happy to carry it out, but you have to read my version of the contract first, so you'll know when to cheer.'
'Is it really good?'
Shelley pulled herself up into a pillar of indignation. 'Of course.'
'I really should call Mel first. He left four messages on my phone over the weekend, explaining that he was finishing up the paperwork on a big case and asking me to call him back. But I was so busy, and the times I did call, he was away from his desk. What a romance. Phone tag only. We're both afraid to leave a sexy message for fear someone else will hear it first.'
'Busy with what?' Shelley demanded, ignoring Jane's reply.
'Buying computers.'
'Plural?'
'One for me and one for Todd.'
'Explain this to me on the way. I want your full attention on the contract while we eat. You need to drive. My van is making a funny noise.'
Jane was astonished. 'You'd ride in my disreputable station wagon? I'd have cleaned it out if I'd known.'
'No, you wouldn't have. But I don't care. Just as long as there's somewhere to sit where there aren't bags of birdseed, dry cleaning, or school papers.'
Jane explained how she'd spent the weekend. Shelley, flipping through the contract one last time, paid very little attention except to mutter, 'Good for you, Jane.'
When they reached the restaurant, Shelley said, 'Let me order for both of us. I know what you always get. Start reading.'
Jane had known Shelley most of her adult life and knew when it was possible to object to her bossiness. This wasn't one of those times.
She applied herself as diligently as she could and hoped she could finish before they were through eating so Shelley could pay their bill while she tried once again to reach Mel.
It wasn't to be. Shelley finished eating first, continually warning Jane not to spill anything on the contract.
'What would it matter?' Jane said, slightly snippily. 'You can always print out a fresh one.'
'I want to show Bitsy what a well-done, well-presented contract should look like without sticky bun icing smeared on it. And I don't want to go back home to print a new one. Aren't you through yet?'
'With the contract or my breakfast?'
'Both.'
Jane sighed, looking longingly at her now-cold second waffle. 'I guess I am. Let's go.'
When they'd almost reached the construction site, Jane asked, 'Do you think they got rid of the smell? I don't want to go in if they haven't.'
'We'll see. I'm determined to get Bitsy away from Sandra anyway. We might just ask her to come outside to talk.'
'Are you going to make her read the contract right there in front of you?'
'No. That would be tacky.'
'It wasn't tacky when you did it to me,' Jane said, showing off, as she spoke, how well she could parallel- park on a busy street.
'I'll give her the contract, pointing out, naturally, how unprofessional hers was. I'll bet you anything Sandra drew it up. Anyway, I'm men going to rat on Sandra about the measured drawings. Just so you know what to expect.'
They found Sandra and Bitsy in the end of the upstairs part of the house that was being completed first. Everybody was relieved that the horrible odor was gone. Today two people were starting the Sheetrock. One was obviously a real,
genuine male. Everyone watched as he picked up an eight-by-four-foot sheet as if it were no heavier than a piece of paper and heaved it precisely into place.
He turned around and Bitsy said, 'Ladies, meet Carl Stringfield. Isn't he a wonder?'
'He is,' Jane and Shelley said at the same time.
Bitsy told him their names and what they'd be doing as if it were already sorted out and a done deal. 'And this is Ev,' she said as a lithe young woman with dark curly hair entered the room.
'Bitsy, I've asked you not to call me Ev several times. My name is Evaline Berman. Evaline. Got it? Or Ms.
