A Farewell to Yarns

friends and business associates of Chet’s.“
    “An island in the Caribbean and she comes to Illinois in December? Is she crazy?“
    “Homesick, I suspect. I don’t know why, after all these years, she’d be so anxious to come back, but she is. We write long letters at Christmas and send the occasional birthday card, but that’s all. Or it was until last winter. Somehow she heard about Steve dying—“
    “From that distance? Not to speak ill of the dead, but Steve’s passing was hardly an international event.”
    Jane smiled. Most of her acquaintances went miles out of their way to avoid mentioning Steve and would never refer to his death. Only a true friend like Shelley would speak casually, even lightly, about it. Life, not to mention conversation, was so much easier with a real friend.
    “I don’t know how she knew. I suspect she’s always taken the Chicago papers, though, because in her letters she frequently mentions local events as if she’s familiar with them. She may do it for the sake of Chet’s sons. One of them lives somewhere close to us, or used to. She mentioned him a couple times, and I suppose she hoped I’d make an effort to meet him, but I never did. You don’t know any Wagners in the neighborhood, do you?“
    “Hmmm, there’s a Joannie Wagner with a fourth grader. I worked at the school carnival with her.“
    “That sounds familiar. Anyway, Phyllis called immediately after Steve died and offered to come stay with me, since my mother was having that surgery and couldn’t be here.“
    “Oh, I think I do remember you mentioning her. I think I answered the phone that day.“
    “Could be. Of course, I had you and Steve’s mother, Thelma, and didn’t need her—didn’t even want her, to be truthful. Phyllis was really a virtual stranger to me by that time. But a month or so later, when I was getting back to being able to think and talk a little, she called again and asked if I’d like to bring the children down to their island for a visit. I begged off, and I must have inadvertently given the impression that I couldn’t afford to go. Not that I could have afforded it, but that wasn’t the reason. So in the next mail there was a registered letter containing four plane tickets.“
    “You never mentioned that to me! Why didn’t you go?“
    “I didn’t tell you, because I was afraid you’d make me go. I couldn’t pull myself together and figure out what to do about the dog and the cats and clothes and stopping the paper. You know what a zombie I was for a while. Besides, I—well, I just didn’t want to spread my grief around. The only place I felt I could heal was at home.”
    Shelley nodded her understanding.
    “I sent the tickets back with the gooiest thank-you I could write,“ Jane went on. “She returned a heart-breakingly sweet letter, very understanding, saying how she’d been selfish to try to get me there, but she’d missed me so much all those years. Of course, I had to write and offer to have her visit here after all she’d done, or tried to do for me. To my astonishment, she took me up on it. Not then, but she said she’d like to visit this winter. So, here we are, picking her up. I don’t know why she’s not visiting Chet’s son and his Joannie instead of me. I don’t think they’re close, but she’d never indicated that they don’t get along. Although, as boys, when she and Chet were first married, his sons gave her trouble. One of them—John, I think his name was—was especially close to his father.“
    “So what’s Phyllis like? Will she be fun or intolerable?”
    Jane had the crochet hook in her teeth as she rewound the yarn. She took it out and tapped her knee reflectively. “Just boring, I would guess. She’s very nice. Very, very nice. She’s the kind of person you absolutely cannot dislike. But it’s equally impossible to be crazy about her, and that’s always made me feel a little guilty. I feel I ought to like her much better than I do. She’s a truly good person who deserves the kind of friendship you and I have. I feel obligated, but unwilling, to provide it. She’s rather quiet. I remember her as a sort of country girl come to the city, even though she grew up in Boston or Washington or someplace. She had that sort of wide-eyed, half-scared, half-thrilled look most of the time.“
    “Certainly she’s outgrown that by now. I don’t think I could stand dewy innocence,“ Shelley said. “Why is she coming without her