Silence Of The Hams (2 page)

“Why did he need to know that?“ Shelley asked.

“I don’t know. But it was creepy. And he was taking notes of everything I said. I quit pouring out personal information, asked a few questions, then got out of there,“ Jane said.

“But Jane, lots of people would love being asked all about themselves,“ Shelley said. “I’m always getting survey calls on the phone from people who are apparently amazed that I won’t tell them my age and the family income. They whine about how the survey won’t be valid without it, which leads me to think that other people are so flattered at being asked their opinions that they do give that information.”

Jane laughed. “Little do the surveyors know that there are people who would happily pay you to keep your opinions to yourself. Like the school principal, the PTA president, the entire IRS, that police officer who tried to give you a parking ticket—”

Shelley sat up very straight. “That wasn’t an opinion. It was a definition. Parking and standing are two distinctly different things and the officer agreed with me—eventually.“

“Agreed? I heard he was weeping openly when you got through with him,“ Jane said.

Suzie laughed. “Here I am lurking in the dark, trying to catch a rich husband, and all I catch is the two of you! What a waste of a beautiful spring evening.”

“So what did you decide about Mike’s graduation gift?“ Shelley asked a little later.

Shelley and Jane had determined that after their ordeal they were richly entitled to a cup of coffee and a donut and were sitting at Jane’s kitchen table, indulging. Jane’s big yellow dog, Willard, was watching every bite either of them took, hoping for crumbs.

Jane leaned back and looked into the living room to make sure Mike wasn’t there. “Oh, a car. I haven’t got any choice. This is a delivery job he has this summer and Conrad can’t afford to supply a vehicle. If Mike takes my car, I’m stranded. Katie’s teaching at the Vacation Bible School and can walk, but Todd’s got soccer team and guitar lessons, and I can’t expect somebody else to drive him all the time. Mike will need a car for college anyway. He’s determined to go to school in-state and come home often. I think he feels like I can’t get along without him nearby.“

“Can you?”

Jane laughed. “I’m not a complete incompetent even if I can’t make policemen cry.“

“I thought your mother-in-law had offered to get him a car,“ Shelley said.

“She didn’t exactly offer. She dangled the possibility in front of me, but she was planning to get a new car herself and give him her old gray battleship of a Lincoln. He’d rather die than be seen driving an old-lady car like that, and I can’t say that I blame him. So I. convinced her I’d get him a car and she’s getting him a computer instead.“

“You can afford it, can’t you? After all, you get Steve’s third of the pharmacy profits and they seem to be doing well. Didn’t they just open another one?“

“Yes, but I’m still putting half of it into the kids’ college trusts, so my budget is pretty tight. The scary thing is, it’s only three years until I face the same thing with Katie, and in the meantime my poor old station wagon will have to be replaced. It’s practically an antique now.”

Shelley shuddered. “Imagine our girls driving!”

Jane bit her tongue to keep from replying. If Denise turned out to be the same kind of driver her mother was, the neighborhood had a great deal to fear. Shelley’s natural competitiveness reached its highest and worst point when she got behind the wheel of a car. The act of turning a key in the ignition triggered something wild and savage in her otherwise ladylike soul.

Shelley, guessing Jane’s thoughts, grinned. “So what kind of car?“

“Uncle Jim’s letting me know. He’s been taking Mike with him, pretending he’s looking for a car himself, and finding out what kinds Mike likes.“

“But you’re going to go buy it?”

Jane put her head in her hands. “I’m afraid so. I’m dreading it.”

Shelley’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, it could be fun.“

“Fun? Are you crazy?”

Shelley grinned. “A feather in my cap. I’ve never made a car salesman cry. Yet.”

2

The salesman didn’t cry. But he didn’t have much fun, either.

Jane’s honorary Uncle Jim, a tough old Chicago cop who had been friends with her parents since before Jane was born, had reported that Mike’s dream vehicle was a smallish black pickup truck. Though this hadn’t crossed Jane’s mind as a possibility, she quickly came to like the idea. It would allow her son to haul his belongings back and forth to college without involving her or her station wagon in long highway drives.

“Best of all, Shelley, there’s no backseat,“ Jane told Shelley.

“What difference does that make?“

“Girls, Shelley. Girls and backseats can be a dangerous combination.“

“Oh, right. Hormones and lust and dark nights on country roads. I’d almost forgotten all that.”

On Shelley’s orders, they stopped at the library and quickly copied a bunch of pages from various auto magazines and
Consumer Reports
and piled back into Jane’s car. Shelley skimmed the copied pages, crumpled and dog-eared them a bit, then laid them aside. “Aren’t you going to read all that? Why did we copy it otherwise?“

“I read the one I needed to, the one about prices. The others are just to wave around and make it look like I’ve really studied the market and know what I’m doing,“ Shelley said confidently.

At first, the salesman was patronizing, calling them “ma’am,“ with a faint sneer. But after a few minutes with Shelley and her sheaf of papers, he became a little more respectful, switching to a state of vague alarm, and finally something that looked like panic. After twenty minutes, Shelley named a ridiculously low figure that she said was all they were prepared to pay. He laughed nervously. “I can’t do that, ma’am.“

“Well then, I’m sorry we’ve taken your time. Goodbye. Jane, put away your checkbook.“ She took Jane’s elbow firmly and they headed back to where they’d parked the disgraceful station wagon down the street.

“But Shelley, it’s exactly what he wants! Do we have to start all over again?“ Jane whispered.

Shelley smiled. “No, we’ve won. You’ll see.”

They were only halfway to their car before the salesman caught up with them. He named a figure a hundred dollars over what Shelley. had offered. She countered with fifty dollars less, and he caved in. Jane was dumbfounded.

Shelley drove Jane’s car home, while Jane drove the new one to the county offices to get the tags and pay the taxes, then home, where she left it in Shelley’s driveway. She’d called the insurance company and gotten the hideous news on what the additional premium would be and was casually loading the dishwasher a few minutes later when Mike and his best friend, Scott, got home from their last half day of school. Jane peeked while the boys circled the truck, admiring it.

“Hi, Mom,“ Mike said when they finally came in the house. “Whose truck is that?“

“Truck? I don’t know.“ She went to the window again and looked. “Oh, that must be Shelley’s nephew. She mentioned that he was coming by today.”

The boys raved about it for a while and Jane went on cleaning the kitchen, trying not to grin. She tried to engage them in a discussion of how it felt to have finished high school, but the topic didn’t interest them. Instead, they fixed Cokes for themselves and went back out to drool over the black pickup truck again. Jane followed.

“You really like this thing?“ she asked innocently. She kicked a tire.

“Like it? Mom, it’s the coolest thing on the road today,“ Mike said. “Just
look
at it!“

“I guess you’d like to have one,“ Jane said. “Like one? Who wouldn’t?”

Jane fished the keys out of her pocket. “Then why don’t you take this one?”

Mike stared at the keys. Then looked at her. Then at the keys.

“You mean—?”

Jane nodded. “It’s yours.”

Mike and Scott fell on each other, slapping, punching, and yelping. Mike grabbed Jane in a bear hug. “Jeez, Mom! Jeez! I can’t believe it!”

Shelley had come out to join them when she heard the boys shouting. Scott was making a hideous yodeling noise while doing a victory dance around the truck and stopped to hug her. “Too cool! Too cool!“ he crooned. “Mrs. J, you really came through,“ he said, mauling her in turn.

“We’ve gotta show the guys,“ Mike said, jingling the car keys.

“Don’t forget the deli opening is in an hour,“ Jane warned.

Mike slapped his forehead. “Jeez!“ he repeated. “Okay. Just a little drive then.”

He and Scott got in the truck and sat for a few minutes, petting and caressing various parts of the interior and talking incomprehensible gibberish about the mechanics. Mike turned the key and they both made orgasmic noises as the engine revved to life. Mike hopped back out, gave his mother another hug and smack of a kiss, and asked if she wanted to ride along.

“No way, thanks. Don’t forget your job.“ The boys roared off and Jane watched until they were out of sight.

“Want a cup of coffee?“ Shelley asked. Jane sighed. “No, thanks. I believe I’ll just go inside and have a good cry.”

The old house Sarah Baker and her sister had inherited was spruced up and looking lovely. The clapboards had been repaired and painted a pristine white with shiny black shutters for accent. The old cement walk had been replaced with a wide brick one in an old-fashioned herringbone pattern and had a border of sweet-scented thyme along the edges. A martin house had pink morning glories twining their way up the post. The original wraparound porch at the front and sides had been enclosed with floor-to-ceiling crank-out windows, which were opened today.

Small white cafe tables for two and chairs with plump floral-patterned cushions were set up on the porch. At the center front of the house itself, one walked into what had once been a front hall, with a parlor and dining room to each side. The area had been opened up, and sparkling glass display cases enclosed an unbelievable array of deli foods. Jane assumed the back rooms of the first floor were kitchens and storage areas. There was no staircase visible, but Jane had heard that the second floor had been kept as living quarters. Conrad and Sarah Baker would be “living above the shop,“ as many small shopkeepers used to.

The decorating plan was in keeping with the Victorian house—lots of ferns and lush greenery—but everything was white and bright and clean instead of characterized by the dark sobriety that had been fashionable when the house was new. Jane and Shelley had arrived early, but so had many other curious neighbors. Nearly all the little tables on the porch were occupied by people sampling Conrad’s cooking when Jane and Shelley arrived. Conrad, in a chef’s white jacket and hat, greeted them with a tray. “Ladies, how good of you to come!“ he said heartily. “Have a seat or roam around as you like.”

Conrad was a large, florid-faced man who obviously enjoyed eating as much as cooking. He wasn’t fat, just big and fairly solid-looking, as ex-football players often get in middle age.

His wife, Sarah, was behind him, passing out plates and silverware. She was a small, thin woman with tiny, delicate features and a mop of curly dark blond hair held back with clear plastic combs. She had a shy, quiet manner, and though she was smiling, she looked as if this sort of mingling was painful.

Shelley introduced herself and Jane to Sarah Baker, who said softly, “Oh, I remember you from school days, Shelley. And I’ve talked to Jane on the phone a couple times. Thanks for coming. If you’d like to sit down while there’s still a place to, I could bring you some of our special tea, and Conrad will be back around with sandwiches.”

Jane, whose motto was “Never pass up a chance to sit down,“ took her up on the offer. The tea, when it arrived, was a very nice Earl Grey with the merest hint of a floral scent they couldn’t identify. “I may never cook again,“ Jane said, sampling a cucumber dip Conrad had brought around with tiny sandwiches, some of his homemade potato chips, and a generous serving of cherry crisp.

“Delicious,“ Shelley said around a mouthful of salmon mousse.

A tall woman who looked like an elongated version of Sarah Baker stopped at the table. “Shelley, nice to see you,“ she said.

“Grace Axton, this is my friend Jane Jeffry. Jane is Mike’s mother.“

“I’m glad to meet anyone who could raise such a great kid,“ Grace said. “We can already tell it’s going to be nearly impossible to replace him when he goes to college in the fall. In his new truck! He’s so proud of it.“

“Mike’s here?“ Jane asked. In the dark, most motherly recesses of her mind, she’d been half afraid he’d forgotten everything in his thraldom with the vehicle.

“In the back, helping with cleanup before he starts deliveries. Have you seen the kitchens?“

“No, we didn’t know we could,“ Shelley replied.

“Sure. We’re anxious to show off everything.”

Shelley said, “Grace, I hardly recognized Sarah. I mean, she looks the same, but I remembered her being really bubbly and outgoing.“

“People change,“ Grace Axton said shortly, and added with a laugh, “I didn’t used to have a neck like a chicken, either, but we’re not in high school anymore.“

“You have a perfectly fine neck,“ Shelley objected, “but if you saw the back of my upper arms—“ After a few chummy, if depressing, comments about aging and the exchange of the names of a couple plastic surgeons, Grace moved off to greet other newcomers.