of Shelley. Shelley’s husband had started and owned a nationwide Greek fast-food franchise that was nearly as common nationally as any of the hamburger or pizza places. But Shelley still bought her sneakers at K Mart and saved grocery store coupons and was always complaining about telephone bills. Of course, if Shelley had been renting a car, as Phyllis did a short time ago, Shelley would have found out the price of everything on the lot and would have demanded a discount if the tires had more than a thousand miles on them.
No, it wasn’t a matter of money or lack of it. It was a basic difference in mentality or outlook or something that made Phyllis rub Jane the wrong way. No point in analyzing it, Jane told herself as she steered the old station wagon into the Howards’ hedge-lined drive. Phyllis and her hideous son would be out of her life pretty soon, and she wouldn’t need to worry about it. In a day or two, she’d just have to tell Phyllis in the nicest way possible that they were going to have to move into a hotel. And if she couldn’t find a nice way—well, she’d worry about that later.
Fiona met them in the driveway. “Jane, I’ve been calling, but I missed you. I’m so sorry I put you to this trouble. Just after we hung up, the exterminators called and said their truck broke down, and they won’t be here until tomorrow. I’ve dragged you out for nothing.“
“It’s fine. It still has to be done by tomorrow, and we might as well do it now. Fiona, this is my friend Phyllis Wagner, who’s visiting me—for a few days,“ she added. “Phyllis, Fiona Howard.”
The two women greeted each other, subtly summing each other up as women do. A flickering glance to assess hair, clothes, manners then—recognizing they were nominally equals—the warmth of tentative acceptance passed between them. “Fiona, you and Phyllis have some friends in common.“
“Oh? Who is that?”
Phyllis looked confused. “I’m not sure. I mean, I told Jane I knew about you living here because someone mentioned it, and I recognized the name of the suburb because of Jane. But I can’t remember who it was.“
“What a pity. Where are you from?“
“Originally Philadelphia, then Chicago. But for the last thirteen years, my husband and I have been living on a little island in the Caribbean.”
She made it sound like she had a Quonset hut on somebody else’s beach.
“Phyllis and her husband own the island and the hotel on it,“ Jane couldn’t resist saying.
Anybody else might have goggled at this; Fiona was unmoved. “How interesting that must be,“ she said with friendly blandness. “I’ve always liked the Caribbean, but I can’t stay there long, because I sunburn so badly. Albert and I went to Jamaica once, and I got a horrible burn, in spite of the fact that I slathered on so much suntan lotion I couldn’t sit on a chair without sliding off. Do you miss the seasonal changes?”
This, of course, was one of Phyllis’s favorite topics and elaborations took them into the house and into the ground floor guest room where the church bazaar cartons were stored. Jane studied the array of boxes for a moment, wondering where to start. They were stacked everywhere with only a narrow aisle between them. Fiona had said a few people had dropped things off since this morning, but it looked more like an army had looted a small, holiday-oriented country and left all the spoils here.
As Jane stood, gazing with bewilderment, she heard Phyllis saying, “... And it will be so nice to be back permanently.“
“Back permanently?“ Jane asked, roused from her stupor by these chilling words.
“Yes, I was telling Fiona about moving back. We haven’t had time to talk about it yet, Jane. Chet told me to find a nice house here, and he’d buy it for Bobby and me if I wanted.“
“You’re going to live in Chicago?“ Jane tried to sound bright and cheerful but felt like she had a mouthful of mud. Having Bobby Bryant around
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