Jill Churchill: The Class Menagerie

"Smith," Avalon said, still in shock and acting like she wasn't sure she believed this was who she said she was.

"What a pity. Still, we can't have everything. Why, I married Landsdale Brooke-Trevor just for his name and he turned out to be an impotent pansy. You see what I mean?"

"I–I think so."

"Who are we waiting for?" Crispy said to Jane.

"Oh, the plane's here, isn't it!" Jane said with surprise and hastily scrambled to find her placard. "This flight is Lila Switzer."

"Dear Delilah…" Crispy cooed maliciously. "No, don't hold that thing up. I'll know her, but she won't know me."

Crispy watched as disembarking passengers passed them. As she got ready to pounce, a severely well-dressed woman with a glossy twist of fair hair turned and said, "Well, Crispy. Imagine seeing you here. And Avalon. How nice." This couldn't have been frostier if she'd had a mouthful of dry ice.

Crispy was crestfallen. "You recognized me?"

"Well, of course. You haven't changed a bit."

Crispy stared at her for a moment, then took a deep breath and said, "I see."

Challenge delivered.

And returned.

Jane leaped in and explained her own role in their meeting. "We're all staying at Shelley's house?" Lila asked coolly.

"No, at a bed and breakfast nearby," Jane said, feeling vaguely as though she'd been chided. "They aren't open yet, officially, and Shelley arranged—"

"Quite." Lila cut her off.

"Do you have bags?"

"Only my garment bag," Lila said, indicating the object she was holding over her left arm. In her right hand she had a briefcase and a large, expensive but dowdy handbag. Jane had been studying her and suddenly realized what was so odd about her appearance. Everything she wore or carried looked like it once belonged to a great aunt. Jane's mother had a friend like that, an old "pillar of Boston," who said everything should be looked upon as an investment for your grandchildren. "Buy the very best quality, take excellent care of it, and hand it on to another generation," Jane had once heard the woman say. The old lady actually got extra fabric when each of her suits was made and had it cleaned with the suit so that it would match when it was needed to make alterations for another decade's — or generation's— use.

Lila Switzer's suit could have been purchased during World War II at tremendous expense and cleaned and altered over half a century — and still looked good. The same could be said for her shoes, briefcase, handbag, and perfect old-fashioned hair. She's wearing Grace Kelly's hair! Jane thought to herself.

"So you're Shelley's neighbor," Crispy said.

"Yes, for years now." Jane was relieved that no

one had spoken to her until she got back into familiar territory. She wasn't good at highway driving and chatting at the same time. They hadn't even talked much to each other. Avalon rode in front with Jane and hadn't said a word. She'd hauled some knitting needles and mouse brown hairy yarn out of one of her bags as soon as they got to the car and clicked the needles all the way. In the backseat, Crispy and Lila, apparently in a state of uneasy truce, sporadically compared notes on some classmates. Who'd married, divorced, had interesting operations.

"Are you married?" Crispy asked, tapping Jane on the shoulder.

"Widowed," Jane answered.

"Oh, God! I've never had any of mine die on me!" Crispy said. "How awful for you. I'm so sorry I asked."

"Don't be," Jane said pleasantly. "Your asking didn't make it happen. And it's more or less okay that it did."

"Who else is coming to this meeting?" Lila demanded, apparently feeling that talk of death was gauche. Or perhaps she was merely bored with a conversation that had nothing to do with her.

"I'm sorry. The names didn't mean much to me and I'm afraid I don't remember," Jane answered. "Somebody named Mimi, I think, and a person Shelley refers to as Tooky.' And I think there's one or two more."

"Pooky's coming?" Crispy asked. "Then get all your insecurities mustered and ready for action."

"Why's that?" Jane asked.

"Because she's so beautiful you'll feel like half a dozen ugly stepsisters."

"Some were coming by train," Jane explained. "Shelley picked them up."

"Oh, look! That little park is still there," Crispy

said from the backseat. "Look, Lila. Didn't you live

over there someplace? Which was your house? I don't

remember."

"The green one. Only it was tan then," Lila answered.

Jane turned the last corner.

"Why, this is my block!" Crispy said. "Remember? The house right…" Her voice trailed off as Jane drove through the gates of the Francisco mansion.

"Good God!" Avalon exclaimed. "This is Ted Francisco's house!"

Jane was so surprised at the vehemence of Avalon's remark that she spoke somewhat sharply. "Not anymore. It's a bed and breakfast belonging to Edgar and Gordon. You'll be bowled over by Edgar's cooking. And Gordon has redecorated the house magnificently. They even have a resident cat, Hector, who's a love." She wasn't going to allow any Dead Ted talk.

Instead of going to the driveway by the back door, Jane pulled up the circle drive and stopped at the front door. As her passengers began to get out and sort through their luggage and miscellaneous belongings, the door opened and Shelley said, "Oh, look who's here."

Two other women joined her in the doorway. Then there were shrieks of greeting and a lot of really insincere hugging and complimenting. But there was also some genuine warmth in their greetings and Jane felt herself just a little jealous of this kind of old-fashioned camaraderie between old friends. Most of these women had grown up together in the days before people routinely moved every couple of years. Some had probably been friends, or at least acquaintances, for the first half of their lives.

After the first round of greetings had died down, Shelley introduced Jane. "This is my neighbor, Jane Jeffry, who is helping Edgar and me. Jane, this is Mimi Soong."

Jane shook hands with the elegant Chinese woman. "It's very nice of you to get involved in this," Mimi said. "She must really have something on you," she added with a lovely smile.

"And this is Debbie Poole, but you might as well know her as Pooky," Shelley added. There was a note of warning in her voice that was nearly frantic.

Jane could see why. Shelley and Crispy had both mentioned how astoundingly beautiful Pooky was, but Pooky in the flesh was a mess. Her skin was leathery and so wrinkled that it looked like a bizarre medical condition. Here and there it pulled as if she'd had plastic surgery in somebody's basement as an experiment. Her hair was bleached to the point of fragility. It looked as if it would shatter if touched. She was excruciatingly thin and almost painfully well-dressed. Jane suspected most of her clothes still had their sale tags lurking nearby.

"How do you do, Pooky," Jane said heartily. Even though Jane had never seen the woman before, she found her appearance very nearly shocking. The others were frankly dumbfounded and were now standing in a rough semicircle studying Pooky with silent horror and a good deal of genuine sadness.

Poor woman, Jane thought. "Crispy has brought enough luggage to stay a year and a half. Or maybe she's opening a dress shop," she said firmly to the group. "I'm afraid we're all going to have to pitch in and help carry it."

As she'd hoped, that broke the spell. There was a babble of embarrassed conversation as Jane opened

the back door of her station wagon and started handing out bag after matched bag. Jane and Mimi Soong ended up with the last pieces. Hector had appeared and was daintily exploring the interior of Jane's station wagon.

"You handled that very well," Mimi said.