The Class Menagerie jj-4 Read online

  The Class Menagerie

  ( Jane Jeffry - 4 )

  Jill Churchill

  What surprises can await a suburban housewife, going to a class reunion? Some get older, some get balder, some get… deader? A challenge for Jane Jeffry, who is a cross between Miss Marple and Erma Bombeck.

  Jill Churchill

  The Class Menagerie

  PROLOGUE

  The woman glanced once again at the invitation, then folded the sheet and tapped it thoughtfully against the palm of her hand while she stared out the window.

  A class reunion. Good God!

  At first, her impulse had been to wad it up and throw it away without even reading beyond the heading:

  "COME TO THE AID OF YOUR OLD SCHOOL!!!"

  And even now, she thought that throwing it away was probably the best thing to do. " ~~~'

  Still-In one way, it would be interesting, on a purely intellectual level, to see how they'd all turned out. Had the bright ones used their brains? Had the ambitious ones made anything of themselves? Had the beautiful ones kept their looks? What about the dumb girls, 'the painfully shy ones? Not much question there. Losers went on losing.

  But mild curiosity wasn't reason enough to risk going. What if her presence aroused their old curiosities? Made them ask questions, put suspicions together? They were all, without knowing it, so dangerous to her.

  1

  She couldn't help that happening. But if she were there — if she saw conversations and thoughts going in the wrong direction — she could head them off. Change the subject. Create a diversion. Whatever was necessary.

  She opened the sheet back up and read carefully. The club members were to go in early and stay with Shelley Nowack.

  Who the hell was Shelley Nowack? Oh, yes. That drippy, shy girl.

  "I'll do anything, Jane. Anything you ask. I'll give you your next ten perms without bitching a bit. I'll give your name and take your Pap tests. I'll drive your car pools for a year. Name your price," Shelley Nowack said.

  Jane Jeffry stared across the kitchen table at her neighbor. "Shelley, you have to tell me what the favor ' is before I can name a price. This sounds enormous. ' You want me to adopt your children? Or are you i trying to beat me into being president of the PTA? ' If that's it, there's not a favor in the world you could I offer." '

  "Worse!" Shelley said miserably.

  "Nothing's worse!" Jane exclaimed. "Except maybe driving for a junior high field trip. And if that's it, the answer's absolutely no — not for anything."

  "It's nothing to do with kids." Shelley ran her ringers through her short cap of neat black hair. This was serious. Jane had never seen Shelley allow a hair out of place. Moreover, Jane's big orange cat Meow had jumped into Shelley's lap and Shelley, who loathed cats, was absentmindedly stroking its fur.

  "Let me explain from the beginning. It's not really my fault. Well, it is, of course. But I mean—"

  "Shelley, you normally have the disciplined sang

  froid of an old-fashioned Mother Superior. It's scary seeing you this way. Get on with it!"

  "Yes. Yes, of course!" Shelley said, apparently giving herself a mental slap. "All right. It's like this. You know about this class reunion of mine that's coming up next weekend?" She was still petting Meow.

  "Yeah, the weird one that's being held in September instead of spring like everybody else's."

  "I explained that to you. The school had a terrible fire and the reunion's being held early so we can get some alumni fund-raising efforts started."

  "Uh-huh. Go on."

  "Well, there was a girl's club in my school. We did charitable things. Volunteered to decorate for school dances, collected for the United Way, managed phone committees on snow days, that sort of thing. It was quite an honor to be invited to join."

  "Why does this sound so harmless and sweet?" Jane asked.

  "I was lulled into complacency, too. See, I started thinking about this old club and decided it would be a good idea for the members of the club to meet early and take on the leadership of the fund-raising project to rebuild the school. Appropriate, really."

  "Makes sense to me — so far," Jane said warily.

  "Here comes the hideous part. I sent out invitations to everybody. I had an old roster of the club that I'd kept updated…"

  "Of. course you had," Jane said. She couldn't even find her current address book half the time, let alone keep old rosters updated, but she and Shelley were cut from a different cloth. Jane's was usually unraveling at the edges.

  "I told them we should meet early," Shelley went on. "The reunion actually starts on Friday. It's a three-

  day deal. And I said we should meet on Wednesday and Thursday before everyone else gets here—"

  "We're talking about Wednesday and Thursday of next week, right?"

  "Yes. Well, Jane, I thought there'd only be two or three of them available. On our tenth reunion there were only a couple from the club. So—" she drew a deep breath and plunged forward, "so I invited them to stay at my house."

  Jane looked at her, perplexed. "And?"

  "And I called the class president, Trey Moffat, this morning to see how many beds I need to make up and the son of a bitch casually mentioned that seven of my club members have agreed to come. Seven, Jane! That's an absolute swarm of women! I only sent them all a note as a courtesy and asked them to make suggestions by mail in advance if they wanted. Doesn't anybody these days know an insincere invitation when they see one? What's the world coming to?"

  "Seven? Where will you put them all? Oh — you need extra space and you want me to bed some of them down in rows in my basement. By the way, you have a cat on your lap."

  "I what? Oh, ick!" Shelley said, dislodging Meow as though he carried a fatal virus. "No, I don't want you to keep them. That crossed my mind, but between us we don't have room for seven and it isn't fair to invite people to your house then make them rough it that way. I've made other arrangements." She was frantically brushing orange fur off her black slacks.

  "Good. So where does the favor come in?"

  "Well, it's this way — you know Edgar North and Gordon Kane?"

  "The men who bought the old Judge Francisco mansion? I've met them. Edgar gave me a recipe for—"

  "Those are the ones. They're turning the mansion into a bed and breakfast. They've finally nagged the zoning board into agreeing and the place is almost ready to open for business. So I'm going to open it with my crowd. I'm paying for all of them, so nobody ought to be able to object."

  Jane poured herself some more coffee and silently waved the pot in front of Shelley, who nodded. "Shelley, I must be getting awfully dim, but I still don't see a favor looming on the horizon. Sounds to me like you've got everything under control — as usual."

  "This is it, Jane — Edgar and Gordon haven't got a staff. They hadn't really planned on opening for a couple weeks—"

  Jane's eyes opened very wide. "Oh! I get it! You.

  want me to skivvy!"

  "Only breakfast preparation and clean up. And maybe help change bedding. Do a tad of vacuuming. See, Edgar doesn't want to hire anyone in a desperate hurry just to satisfy my need. He wants to take the time to get just the right person. Naturally, Edgar will do most of the work in the kitchen. He just needs you around to help out a little bit."

  "Well, housework isn't my favorite thing, but I do make a mean scrambled egg. Sure, I'll help. It would only be a couple of hours for a couple of days. I'd say two perms ought to about even it out. Shelley, what a build up. This isn't nearly as bad as you made me think."

  "That isn't the real favor," Shelley said.

  Jane sat her coffee cup down. "Oh?"

  , "No, the real favor is, I want
you to hang around

  the rest of the time. To attend with me."

  "Go to your class reunion! You've lost your mind. I didn't even go to my own!"

  "Yes, but I remember why. You said you'd only been at the school you graduated from for six months and you never knew the people and—"

  "I hate the way you remember everything I tell you. I probably didn't add this remark at the time: even if I'd known them intimately, I wouldn't have gone'. I hate the concept of class reunions. Everybody dieting like mad, getting face-lifts and having family pictures taken to show off. I've known people who spent the better part of a year before a reunion getting a fake life together to show off."

  "But you don't have to fake anything for this. You didn't know them."

  "Why in the world would you want me to go to your reunion?"

  "Well, Jane, it's this way — I was terribly shy in high school—"

  Jane laughed. 'Try another one. You're about as shy as Attila the Hun."

  Shelley's eyebrows went up. "You didn't know me then. I was hideously shy. Almost phobic."

  "Shelley, this is like being told that the Pope used to be an arms dealer. It won't fly. You can't possibly expect me to believe this of a woman who has the entire school board, city council, and neighborhood jumping through hoops."

  Shelley preened a 'little. "Not exactly through hoops."

  "So, even if you were shy, what has it got to do with the reunion? You're not a fading violet anymore."

  "I think that's 'shrinking' violet. If you're going to speak in cliches, you ought to get them right."

  "Don't be snappish with me. I've got the upper hand for a change," Jane said with a grin.

  Shelley took a delicate sip of her coffee while she mentally marshaled her forces. "Jane, if you've never been to a reunion, this will seem strange to you. But when I went to my tenth, I went striding in with complete confidence and was suddenly overcome by the person I used to be. It's as if someone pressed a button and I dropped through the floor into a time warp — ten years fell away as if they'd never happened and I was that same stammering twerp I used to be."

  "You're kidding!"

  "And I'm afraid it'll happen again. I need you there, Jane, to constantly remind me what a bossy bitch I really am."

  "You mean, what a confident, liberated woman you are."

  Shelley nodded. "Whatever. Anyway, if you're there helping Edgar and Gordon, it's a perfect excuse to sort of hang around. And you can be my 'date' for the other school stuff, the picnic and the dance."

  "Why isn't Paul your date? Husbands are said to be good for that sort of thing."

  "Paul's out of town. Out of the country, as a matter of fact, and I think it's because of this thing. He went to the tenth with me and hated it so much that he gave me that sapphire tennis bracelet on the condition that I never mention the word reunion to him again.", "It was that bad?"

  "No! No, not really, but he was coming down with the flu and felt miserable and it colored his whole memory. It wasn't really bad, he's just remembering it through a haze of decongestants."

  "I'll bet."

  "I'll loan you the bracelet anytime you want if you'll do this for me."

  Jane waved this away. "I wouldn't trust myself to wear something that expensive. Why are they called tennis bracelets anyway? You'd have to be crazy to wear something like that on a tennis court. If you got hot and sweaty, it could fly right off—"

  "Jane!"

  "Sorry. Let me see what's on next week." She rose and went to the calendar over the kitchen phone. "I've got grade school car pool mornings, Back-to-School night on Thursday. I could probably trade for afternoon car pools, but it would be a two-for-one deal. Nobody wants mornings. But for my very best friend who is going to trade me for a fabulous favor, to be named later—"

  "How fabulous?" Shelley asked.

  "Fabulous in direct ratio to the horribleness of the reunion."

  "It won't be horrible," Shelley said. "In fact, it might be kind of fun."

  "Wanna bet? So, what's this club called?"

  Shelley squirmed. "You don't want to know."

  "More horrible confessions? Come on. Devastate me!"

  Shelley mumbled into her coffee cup. "The Ewe Lambs."

  "Ewe Lambs?" Jane shrieked with delight.

  "It wasn't our fault! The football team was the Rams and the club was formed ten years before I was even in high school."

  "And I'll bet you had cute stuff like, 'Do ewe solemnly swear to uphold and protect the woolly principles…' " Jane was laughing too hard to finish.

  Shelley drew herself up. "Nice women don't snort like that when they're talking, Jane."

  "You'll have to warn Edgar off serving mutton," Jane said, and went off into another laughing fit. "I wonder if any of your club members are 'on the lamb.'"

  Shelley looked to heaven for guidance.

  On Tuesday afternoon the week the reunion was to start, Jane went to the Francisco mansion with Shelley to meet Edgar North and familiarize herself with the layout of the house and her responsibilities. '

  The house had a definitely Gothic look. The three-acre lot was surrounded by a tall filigree iron fence, freshly painted with glossy black paint. "It looks like'an English mental institution from the turn of the century," Jane commented to Shelley as they passed through the gates. The mansion was truly a mansion, with turrets, towers, and misguided bits of iron railings around the roof edges and dormers. Tall pines and oaks, showing scars of recent cosmetic trimming, still darkened the overall gloomy aspect, which was not helped by the fact that a dank fall drizzle was falling. j J

  "I've seen this place from the road, but I've never been in here," Jane said. "I thought it was abandoned!"

  "The Francisco family moved out the year Ted died and it was vacant until Edgar and Gordon bought it last January," Shelley replied as she wheeled her van into a parking spot by the carriage house behind the main house.!'

  "So Ted died," Jane mused.

  Shelley looked at her, perplexed, then said, "Sorry. I'm in my reunion mode. I forgot you haven't always lived in this neighborhood."

  II

  "Who the hell is Ted? The resident ghost?"

  "Dear God! I hope not! I'll tell you about it later. There's Edgar waving at us."

  They got out of the car and went to the back door. A cherubic man in his early fifties with thinning red hair, a hint of potbelly, and a huge smile was holding the storm door open to them. "Ghastly weather, isn't it? I hope it clears up for your guests. Come in, ladies," he said, beaming.

  Jane stepped into the kitchen and came to a dead stop. Nothing could have been more in contrast to the outer aspect of the house. The kitchen was huge, brightly lighted, and seemed to hum with warmth and welcome. Gleaming copper pans, ladles, strainers, and baskets were hung from the soffit around the room. A big kitchen table by the windows was draped in a bright calico fabric that matched the ruffled curtains next to it. White tile counters reflected the bright lighting; a huge, bleached butcher block workstation was in the center of the room. The most gigantic refrigerator Jane had ever seen dominated the far end of the room and white, glass-fronted cabinets held arrays of china and sparkling crystal. There was a quarry tile floor with colorful rag rugs placed anywhere a person might stand for a few moments.

  "Mr. North, this is the kitchen of my dreams!" Jane said reverently. "Heaven looks just like this."

  "Darling, it's Edgar. Mr. North is my father in Cleveland. And I'm glad you like it. I'm rather pleased myself."

  "You could store a small northern country in that refrigerator. But this is a bed and breakfast. Surely-"

  "Surely I don't need this to throw together a bit of eggs and toast?" Edgar finished for her. "No, but I'm

  a chef by profession. I've worked all over the country. And this is the kitchen I've always wanted for myself when it came time to settle down. We're going to do dinners, as well, you see. Not like a restaurant, just for planned parties. Maybe some cateri
ng when we're better established. Now sit down, my dears, and let me give you some coffee."

  "Coffee" turned out to be a divine concoction that — tasted so nutty and rich that Jane didn't see how she'd ever go back to the ordinary kind. Along — with it Edgar served the tiniest, most delicate cream puffs on earth. Jane and Shelley complimented him effusively between bites. "Aren't you having any of your own marvelous treats?" Jane asked, wondering if Shelley would slap her hand if she took a fourth cream puff. She decided to risk it.:

  "No, have to watch my tummy," Edgar said, patting his tidy little potbelly.

  "BRBRBROEWW!" someone said from the next room. A second later an enormous, sleek Siamese cat sauntered into the room

  "What a handsome cat!" Jane exclaimed.

  Shelley looked at her as if she'd lost a considerable number of brain cells.

  "His name is Hector. The noun and the verb," Edgar said. "He's supposed to be outside mousing to earn his keep, but he hates the rain."

  Hector came over and rammed his head into Jane's leg, then flopped down and rolled over as if indicating that this luscious furry expanse of stomach he was exposing just might be available for petting. Jane obliged.

  "Are you ready to take a look around? I'm sorry Gordon isn't here to help me show off. He's responsible for all the decorating. I'm just the cook."

  "The understatement of the year," Jane said, licking powdered sugar off her fingertips and realizing too late-there was a bit of cat fur sticking to them as well.

  "Where is Gordon?" Shelley asked.

  "Still holding down gainful employment. He's design production coordinator for a greeting card company in Chicago. Dreadful job, of course. All cute little bunny wabbits and cripplingly sweet verse, but it keeps the wolf from the door. We're hoping that we'll rake in such pots of cash that he can quit when we get running."

  The tour of the house left Jane gasping. Each guest bedroom had a name that matched its decor. The sunflower room, the apricot room, the moonlight room, the cornflower room, the tuxedo room, the lime room, the rose room. Bedspreads, curtains, carpet, paintings, lampshades were all exquisitely coordinated. The rose room was a symphony of femininity, all blushing cabbage roses, cherrywood, and quilting, while the moonlight room was as cool, classical, and masculine as Gary Grant. Hector preceded them into each room as if he were personally responsible for the decor. Every now and then he let out a spine-tingling Siamese yowl that made Shelley shudder and Jane giggle. Edgar kept giving the cat indulgent, fatherly looks. "I want to adopt Gordon," Jane said. "Do you two have rooms here or in the carriage house?"