A Farewell to Yarns

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Authors: Jill Churchill
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permanently would be about as much fun as having a car wreck in a Pinto. She had to suppress the urge to run to the nearest phone, call Shelley, and scream, “Help me! Help me!“
    “Maybe you’d be interested in the house next door?“ Fiona asked, obviously as a conversational gambit, not as a sincere suggestion. “I was telling Jane about it just this morning.“ She went on to explain chattily about the old lady, the nursing home, and the son’s anxiety to get a tax break by selling before the end of the year.
    “That might be very nice,“ Phyllis said. “At least it would give me time to look around for something else without imposing on Jane. And we’d be so close. Wouldn’t that be fun, Jane? Just like the old days.”
    Please don’t do this to me, God. I’m a good person, and I don’t deserve it, Jane thought.
     

Eight
     
    Jane held up a pinecone wreath and pretended she hadn’t heard the question. “I wonder who made this. It’s awfully nice work, isn’t it? It’s got these little peppermint sticks woven in, but they’re not meant to be eaten anyway—“
    “Would you really like to take a look?“ Fiona was asking. “The man left us a key in case I wanted to show it to anyone.“
    “That would be fun, but we should help Jane—“
    “Why don’t I have Albert run over with you, while I—“
    “Did I hear my name being taken in vain?“ Albert had apparently come down the hallway just as Fiona referred to him.
    “Oh, Albert—you know Jane Jeffry, she was here earlier. And this is her friend Phyllis Wagner,“ Fiona said.
    He looked at Phyllis, at Jane, and at the room full of cartons and was struck dumb.
    “It’s not as chaotic as it looks,“ Jane assured him. The man had actually paled at the sight of what had happened to his home. “I pretty well know what all this stuff is, and it’ll be out of your house in another week or so, after the sale.”
    Fiona explained to Albert, who still looked stricken, what she wanted him to do, but he obviously didn’t want to be bothered acting as somebody else’s real estate agent. “I’m expecting the accountant any minute. He’s bringing some forms over that need to go in by midnight.“
    “I’ll keep him entertained if he shows up,“ his wife assured him. “It’ll only take you a minute.”
    “But Fiona—”
    Jane glanced up, aware of the tension growing in the room. Albert was on the verge of digging his heels in. Phyllis was looking at him with undisguised fascination, as if he were some sort of museum exhibit: “The Nerd Who Married Richie Divine’s Widow.“ Jane suddenly understood why Phyllis couldn’t think of the name of the friend they had in common. There wasn’t such a person. Phyllis had just kept up with the fan magazines and had been curious about Fiona and her husband.
    Too bad Albert was such a loser, physically—the little pot belly, the thinning dull hair, the jowls that drew attention to his almost complete lack of chin. Everybody must look at him and make the comparison between Fiona’s current husband and her former husband and wonder what on earth she saw in this one. It couldn’t be easy to be Albert Howard.
    “If you’d just let me in, I could take a little look around and bring the key back?“ Phyllis suggested.
    “Good idea,“ Fiona agreed.
    “Oh, very well, I’ll take you over there,“ Albert replied. It was just short of openly hostile. “Come along, Mrs.—uh--“
    “Wagner, but you must call me Phyllis,“ she said, following his rather abrupt departure from the room. “I’m just sorry my son isn’t with me. He’s looking forward to coming back to Chicago, I think. He was raised here. You see—“ Her voice stopped as a door closed. Good Lord, Jane thought, she’s telling him the whole story. The woman didn’t know the meaning of discretion.
    Fiona started sorting boxes with Jane but seemed preoccupied. “Albert seems to be a bit out of sorts,“ she finally said. “It must be

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