A Farewell to Yarns

obnoxious chuckle before slamming the door in her face.
    Jane got back to the Howards’ house fueled by pure rage. “If Phyllis is in heaven, she’s probably still trying to explain herself for having given birth to such a monster!“ she said as Shelley opened the door to her. “I’m calling the police on him.“
    “Jane, I’m all for self-assertiveness, but I don’t think it’s smart to mess with that kid. He could be a murderer, you know.“
    “Clear the way,“ a voice behind a vast stack of empty boxes said. It was Suzie. “Get the door for me. I’m going to put these out in the garage.”
    Jane and Shelley stood arguing halfheartedly for a minute more. Suzie came bounding back. “Hey, guys, you gotta see this.”
    Shelley grabbed her coat, and they followed Suzie along the path that ran between the Howards’ house and Bobby’s. Before they could see what was happening, they could hear the argument. Mr. Finch was standing at the front door, waving his arms and screaming unintelligibly in a high voice. They couldn’t see Bobby, but they did see his fist suddenly pop out and catch Mr. Finch on the chin.
    “Jane, do go call the police,“ Shelley said. “And miss this? Not on your life,“ Jane replied.
    Finch had tumbled into the snow but picked himself up with lightning speed and flung himself toward the door and out of sight. A second later, a bundle of humanity with four legs and four arms rolled down the steps and into the yard. They thrashed around ineffectually in the patchy snow for a moment, apparently not doing each other much harm. Just as Jane was about to give up watching and run for the phone, a siren wailed over the sound of Richie Divine’s voice. Apparently someone else had seen the fight coming or had gotten fed up with the music.
    A police car pulled to a sudden stop in front of the house, and two uniformed officers ran across the lawn and separated Bobby and Mr. Finch without too much difficulty. “Show’s over, ladies,“ one of the officers called to them.
    Jane blushed with embarrassment.
    Suzie had a much higher embarrassment threshold. “Sonofabitch,“ she muttered with heat. The three of them hurried back to the house, and Suzie continued. “Couple of wimps. I could have beaten them both.”
    Fiona was at the door. “What in the world became of you?”
    They told her about the fight.
    “Oh, dear,“ Fiona said, sounding defeated. ‘This is all so unpleasant, and I hold myself toblame. If I hadn’t mentioned that house was for sale, it would still be nice and vacant. What if something awful happens while the bazaar is going on? We can hardly expect people to pick their way through a full-scale battle to buy a few Christmas things.“
    “We’ll worry about that if it happens,“ Shelley said briskly. “There won’t be a bazaar if we don’t get back to work.”
    Nothing more was heard from next door. The music stopped a few minutes after the police arrived. The four women worked in peace all afternoon. The only interruption was John Wagner dropping by to tell Jane that there would be a funeral service for his stepmother at ten o’clock the next morning. Fortunately, Fiona’s maid, Celia, showed him in directly to where Jane was working, and he didn’t cross paths with either Fiona or Albert.
    “Dad thought about having her buried from the old church they went to when they lived in the city, but I talked him into having it out here.“ He made no reference to the events of the night before, and neither did Jane.
    “Do you want me to come along to the funeral?“ Shelley asked when he’d left.
    “Good Lord, no! You promised to fight the crowds with me to do some Christmas shopping tomorrow afternoon. That’s all anybody could ask of a friend.“
    “I’m so glad you realize that. Now, about pricing these fruitcakes—”
    Shelley had to drive a car pool at three, Suzie at three-thirty, and Jane at three forty-five, but each returned to finish off one job or another.
    They sat down for a last slice of Fiona’s banana bread and a cup of coffee at five, confident that they had the bazaar situation well in hand.
    If only the rest of life could be handled by hard work and organization, Jane thought longingly. How unutterably sad that Phyllis couldn’t have been with them. It was exactly the sort of day she’d have loved. What had Mel VanDyne been doing all day while they sorted and priced Christmas knickknacks? Jane wondered. Was he any closer to finding