Jill Churchill: Bell, Book, and Scandal

"Right. But you're going to be calling them to check every five minutes, aren't you?"

Jane grabbed her purse and pulled out a cell phone. "I finally caved to technology," she said. "Isn't it darling? So very tiny."

"You didn't invite me to help you shop for it," Shelley complained. "I could have advised you."

"It was on sale for twenty-two dollars at the department store, and I'd seen another just like it for a hundred. How could I go wrong?"

"Twenty-two dollars!" Shelley almost screamed.

It was the same kind of cell phone Shelley had, and her reaction led Jane to suspect that Shelley had paid the full hundred for hers.

"I've made the kids memorize my number. They're to call me or leave a message every time they step foot out of the house."

"So much for you trusting them," Shelley said. "Did you buy them their own phones at this sale?"

"I regret to say I did. I figured they'd be a whole lot happier about the rules if they had their own phones. But I made sure that they can't call long distance on them, and when their free min-

utes run out, the phone doesn't work anymore until the next billing month starts."

"Good Lord! I didn't know you could do that! I've been afraid to let my kids have one for fear they'd run up huge bills. You remember when Denise stupidly called that psychic hot line and I got a bill for a hundred and seventy-five dollars?"

"Of course I remember. You tore through the phone company like Sherman through Atlanta to remove the charge. Anyway, I'll see how well the kids respond to the plan. And I'll hunt down any suspicious numbers when I receive the bills."

When Jane got into her ancient, disreputable old brown station wagon to go to the grocery store, it wouldn't start. She called Triple A and they sent a guy out right away.

"I'm sorry to say, Mrs. Jeffry, that this is beyond fixing unless you want to put thousands of dollars into it to get it running again. Where do you want it towed?"

Jane was crushed to have lost her old familiar wheels. On the other hand, it was a relief. She'd driven the big wallowing station wagon for too many years already. It embarrassed her to be seen in it. It had once been brown but had faded to a motley tan. The carpets were stained with Kool-Aid. There'd been a crack creeping across the windshield for the last several months. She'd known for a long time that she ought to rid herself of it while it still got her around.

"I certainly don't want to put money into the poor thing. And I have no idea where to tow it

to," she said.

"May I make a suggestion?"

"Suggest away, please!"

"There are lots of charities that will take a car off your hands and you receive a tax break for the donation at the blue-book rate."

"It's certainly not worth the blue-book rate. And it doesn't even run. How would I deliver it to them even if they were foolish enough to want it?"

"They'd have it towed at their own expense," he said with a big grin.

"What charities?" she asked.

"I'm not sure. I'd guess the Salvation Army. But it's a guess. I had a customer who donated a dead clunker that was worse than this one to the Kidney Foundation. Got a computer? Look on the Internet for places that take them."

Two

Jane gave up on shopping and cruised the Internet. At noon, she heard a truck fall into the hole at the end of her driveway. She apologized to the driver of the tow truck.

"Never mind. I should have seen it and straddled it," he said. "Is this the car we're taking away?" He said this as if it were among the worst he'd hauled off for a long time.

"Poor old car," Jane said. "It's gotten me through becoming a widow, driving the car pools for a hundred years, hauling birdseed, groceries, and assorted misbehaving children. I'm afraid of what its fate will be. It's served me well."

The tow truck driver looked at her as if she were slightly mad.

Shelley, having heard the noise, came to her kitchen door in her jeans with an apron over a T-shirt. She looked out for a second, then disappeared.

By the time the station wagon was gone, Shelley had reappeared looking as if she'd just come

from a beauty shop and stopped off at a very expensive dress shop.

"Why are you dressed so well?" Jane asked. "Because this is what I wore last night to one of Paul's dinners for his employees. It was the clos-

est thing at hand. Where's your car going? What's wrong with it now?"

"Nearly everything's wrong with it. I'm donating it to a charity"

"What? Somebody wants that car?"

Jane felt herself very nearly tearing up. "I think

they're probably having it gutted and crushed. So they can sell the metal as scrap."

"Jane, it's a vehicle. Not a person."

"I know that, Shelley. I'm also having a new

driveway put in and acquiring a new friend." "A new friend?"

'A Jeep. You're too dressed up to go with me. Change your clothes to 'business casual' as they're calling it in the ads on television. We have an appointment to buy the car this afternoon at

two-thirty. Would you drive me? I have no wheels of my own."

"A Jeep? Good idea. One of those really big ones, right?"

"No. It's a new, smaller one called a Liberty." "How did you find out about it?" Shelley asked

as Jane trailed along while Shelley headed for her own kitchen door.

"I looked it up on the Internet. Called Mike after he got out of his nine o'clock class at college andasked him a few questions about what I needed for choices. Boys in their twenties always know this stuff and love showing off about how much they know. Then I called several dealerships to find out if they had what I wanted. Fortunately, the closest one to our neighborhood did."

"Start us a pot of coffee while I change, please,"

Shelley said.

The coffee was poured and Jane had found some stale vanilla wafers to snack on.

"What color are you choosing?" Shelley asked when she came back in black silk trousers, low-heeled gray patent heels, and a white linen blouse with a gorgeous scarf draped to perfection.

"Red. But only if I like it when I see it. Maybe taupe. They have both options with what I want on the lot."

"What did Mike say?"

"After he screamed 'Whoopee!' you mean?" Jane replied. "He told me to pick a certain kind of brakes. I've got it all marked out on the sheet I printed out. Heated leather seats. A sunroof. Fancy tires. A CD player and tape player both. The best that they've got at the dealership."

"Jane, you amaze me!"

"Why?"

"Because you've always been so stingy with yourself. First that big television set in your bedroom, now an expensive new car. I can hardly believe it. Good for you."

"For one thing, it isn't as expensive as you're

imagining. Not even close to the cost of a Humvee, which I almost considered until I found out the price. I would look so good driving a Humvee.

"Secondly," Jane went on, "it would have cost several thousand to fix up the old station wagon, and it wouldn't add anything to its trade-in value. I donated because I can take the book value off my taxes, and that's a lot more than it would be worth if I turned it in. And I'd be deeply embarrassed to let a car dealer even see it."

"How did you learn all about this?"

"I have my sources," Jane said smugly. "You're turning into me, you know."

"That's a good thing," Jane said. "But I'll never spend what you do on your wardrobe, I can promise that," she added with a smile. She glanced at her watch. "It's only twelve-fifteen. My appointment to buy the car isn't until two-thirty. I have to go to the bank first to buy a certified check. What else can we do to kill time?"

"We can go look at your list and check the site on the Internet for color choices. Wouldn't you rather have a nice bright green or maybe a white one? Or even that cobalt blue color you like?"