Read Online The Merchant of Menace by Jill Churchill - Free Book Online
Authors: Jill Churchill
Tags: det_irony
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and didn't think. I should have asked you first, but I didn't know I'd need to ask at all until we got to my apartment and it was freezing cold. She really did have a bad time with the pneumonia last year and—"
“I know, Mel." She remembered when he went to visit his ailing mother. Jane had pictured Addie VanDyne as a little old lady with white hair and a frail, almost-ready-for-the-nursing-home constitution. That had obviously been a stupid assumption. Jane's own mother was older than Mel's and she was fit and sleek as a racehorse.
“Listen, Janey. I'll take her to a hotel. I'll tell her… something."
“You'd have to tell a whopping great lie that she'd know was one," Jane said, sliding the casserole into the oven — which she now realized she'd forgotten to preheat. "I'm not going to throw your mother out. It's okay. It's a done deal. And, as you say, it's just for one night."
“You really don't want her here, do you? You don't like her?”
He sounded so astonished at the very concept that Jane could think of nothing to say except, "I'm sure I'll like her a lot, Mel. We don't even know each other yet. Now, get out of my way. I have a ton of stuff to do before the party. You
are
coming, aren't you?"
“The minute the furnace repair person leaves," he said, looking cheerful again.
Jane heard Addie coming down the stairs a few minutes after Mel left. Jane had assumed that Addie had changed into more comfortable sitting-around-the-house clothing although it was too much to hope she'd opt for a sweatsuit.
Addie swished into the kitchen wearing a cherry red outfit that Jane could only think of as "lounging pajamas." There was a lovely self-stripe to the fabric, which draped beautifully, and Addie had added a necklace and earringsof silver and Christmas tree — green stones that Jane feared were real emeralds.
“How can I help, Jane dear?"
“You could start by loaning me your wardrobe," Jane said.
“What?"
“Just a joke," Jane said.
Eight
Shelley came to her
rescue in fine form, engag ing Addie in light, impersonal conversation so that Jane could finish dinner preparations. Every now and then Shelley would toss Jane a question. An easy one, like "Do you need any help?" or "How's it going?" To which Jane could reply brightly, "Not a bit," or "It's coming right along on schedule.”
As six o'clock approached, the time the carolers were to assemble, several neighbors dropped in with contributions. Sharon Wilhite made a couple trips, bringing four very expensive-looking wine bottles and a box full of plastic wineglasses. "Hope you don't mind them being plastic," Sharon said.
“Is there anyone on earth with thirty real ones sitting around?" Jane asked. "Plastic is great."
“I hear Lance King's invited to the party," Sharon said.
“And he's been uninvited," Jane said bluntly. "Sorry, maybe you're a fan of his."
“Fan? No way. He was born obnoxious. I often wonder… oh, well, never mind.”
This was the sort of conversational gambit Jane would normally have pursued avidly, but was too busy at the moment. She'd ask Sharon about it later. If she could remember.
Julie Newton brought snack mix and, to Jane's surprise, had the native wit to bring along little matched bowls the shape of Christmas trees to set around the house on various flat surfaces. Little Pet Dwyer turned up with a pan of fudge she'd made herself. It looked like a big mud pie with green sprinkles, but the women all complimented her skills effusively.
“Are you and your dad singing with the group before you come here for dinner?" Jane asked.
“No, Daddy has to work at home tonight. But he said I could come if someone would walk me home by eight-thirty. He's putting together a web page that has a lot of graphics to load."
“I'm sure Todd will be happy to walk you home, Pet," Jane told her. "Be sure your father knows he's welcome to drop by if he gets a chance to take a break. Lots of good food here."
“Thank you, Mrs.
“I know, Mel." She remembered when he went to visit his ailing mother. Jane had pictured Addie VanDyne as a little old lady with white hair and a frail, almost-ready-for-the-nursing-home constitution. That had obviously been a stupid assumption. Jane's own mother was older than Mel's and she was fit and sleek as a racehorse.
“Listen, Janey. I'll take her to a hotel. I'll tell her… something."
“You'd have to tell a whopping great lie that she'd know was one," Jane said, sliding the casserole into the oven — which she now realized she'd forgotten to preheat. "I'm not going to throw your mother out. It's okay. It's a done deal. And, as you say, it's just for one night."
“You really don't want her here, do you? You don't like her?”
He sounded so astonished at the very concept that Jane could think of nothing to say except, "I'm sure I'll like her a lot, Mel. We don't even know each other yet. Now, get out of my way. I have a ton of stuff to do before the party. You
are
coming, aren't you?"
“The minute the furnace repair person leaves," he said, looking cheerful again.
Jane heard Addie coming down the stairs a few minutes after Mel left. Jane had assumed that Addie had changed into more comfortable sitting-around-the-house clothing although it was too much to hope she'd opt for a sweatsuit.
Addie swished into the kitchen wearing a cherry red outfit that Jane could only think of as "lounging pajamas." There was a lovely self-stripe to the fabric, which draped beautifully, and Addie had added a necklace and earringsof silver and Christmas tree — green stones that Jane feared were real emeralds.
“How can I help, Jane dear?"
“You could start by loaning me your wardrobe," Jane said.
“What?"
“Just a joke," Jane said.
Eight
Shelley came to her
rescue in fine form, engag ing Addie in light, impersonal conversation so that Jane could finish dinner preparations. Every now and then Shelley would toss Jane a question. An easy one, like "Do you need any help?" or "How's it going?" To which Jane could reply brightly, "Not a bit," or "It's coming right along on schedule.”
As six o'clock approached, the time the carolers were to assemble, several neighbors dropped in with contributions. Sharon Wilhite made a couple trips, bringing four very expensive-looking wine bottles and a box full of plastic wineglasses. "Hope you don't mind them being plastic," Sharon said.
“Is there anyone on earth with thirty real ones sitting around?" Jane asked. "Plastic is great."
“I hear Lance King's invited to the party," Sharon said.
“And he's been uninvited," Jane said bluntly. "Sorry, maybe you're a fan of his."
“Fan? No way. He was born obnoxious. I often wonder… oh, well, never mind.”
This was the sort of conversational gambit Jane would normally have pursued avidly, but was too busy at the moment. She'd ask Sharon about it later. If she could remember.
Julie Newton brought snack mix and, to Jane's surprise, had the native wit to bring along little matched bowls the shape of Christmas trees to set around the house on various flat surfaces. Little Pet Dwyer turned up with a pan of fudge she'd made herself. It looked like a big mud pie with green sprinkles, but the women all complimented her skills effusively.
“Are you and your dad singing with the group before you come here for dinner?" Jane asked.
“No, Daddy has to work at home tonight. But he said I could come if someone would walk me home by eight-thirty. He's putting together a web page that has a lot of graphics to load."
“I'm sure Todd will be happy to walk you home, Pet," Jane told her. "Be sure your father knows he's welcome to drop by if he gets a chance to take a break. Lots of good food here."
“Thank you, Mrs.
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