A Quiche Before Dying

believe—“
    “Why are you teaching this class?“ Mrs. Pryce interrupted.
    “Because I want to,“ Missy snapped back.
    “I hardly think you’re a suitable teacher. A woman who writes those dirty books.”
    Missy drew herself up and looked dangerously composed. “Have you ever read one of my books, Mrs. Pryce?“
    “I wouldn’t demean myself.“
    “Then you have no right to comment on their content, quality, or morality. I’m sorry to say this, Mrs. Pryce, but if you can’t keep quiet until you’re called on, I’ll have to ask you to drop out of this class.“
    “I’ve paid my money and I’ll stay as long as I wish. That is my right as a citizen.“ She turned and looked around smugly, as if daring any of them to dispute this.
    “Now see here—“ Missy began, then caught herself. She looked down at her notes, took a long breath, and went on with her lecture. “The first thing you must determine is the purpose your autobiography is to serve. There are many reasons for writing one, some therapeutic, some instructional....”
    Jane was making notes. Why is Priscilla writing this autobiography? To explain herself to her descendants? To clear her conscience? To plead her cause in the eyes of the world? Or to prove a point to the woman she believed to be her mother for so many years? For a little while she was able to put aside the suffocating tensions in the room. Mrs. Pryce didn’t exist in Priscilla’s world, nor did any of Mrs. Pryce’s victims.
     

5
     
    “So how did it go?“ Jim Spelling asked Jane, Cecily, and Shelley as they trooped in the door. He was at the kitchen sink washing grease off his hands.
    “Not bad—“ Jane said, preoccupied.
    “Not bad?“ her mother and Shelley said in unison. “Jane! Have you gone mad?“ Shelley finished. “What?“
    “Earth to Jane. Do I need to get the jumper cables?”
    Jane laughed. “I’m sorry. I was thinking about something else. The class was ghastly, at least Mrs. Pryce was. Is Katie home, Uncle Jim?“
    “She came and went.“
    “She’s not supposed to go anywhere.“
    “Just next door to look at somebody’s hair. Why anybody’d walk five feet to look at hair is a mystery to me.”
    Shelley was getting out coffee cups. “It’s my daughter’s, and it is worth gawking at. She looks like somebody went at her head with a lawn mower.“
    “I’ve been thinking about it, and I believe Agnes Pryce is insane,“ Cecily said, sitting down at the kitchen table. “I remembered her as being overbearing and insensitive, but nothing like that performance tonight. Maybe it’s a particularly nasty form of senility.”
    Shelley joined her at the table, setting cups around. “You might be right. I did some volunteer work at a nursing home for a while. There was a man there, not all that old, but he’d had a stroke. He was belligerent and had the foulest mouth I’ve ever heard. His family was always visiting and always left in tears. Apparently he’d been a gentle, kind person before. The doctor and nurses kept explaining to them that the stroke had triggered activity in some part of his mind that we all have, but normally repress. I guess his inhibitions had been cut off somehow. Maybe that’s what age has done to Mrs. Pryce.“
    “That woman never did have inhibitions,“ Jim said, turning off the faucet and looking at the drip with irritation. “This needs work, too.“
    “Jim, this was far worse than I remembered her,“ Cecily Grant said. “This poor woman who has some illness sat down next to her, and Pryce behaved like she’d been thrust into the middle of a leper colony. She called another woman a drunk and accused the mayor of embezzling the town treasury. All that before the class even started. That’s when she went to work on the teacher for writing pornography.”
    Katie burst in just then, and there were five minutes of hugging and kissing and shopping plans between granddaughter and grandmother.
    “Jane, I ran into whatsisname today,“ Jim said when the greetings had died down.
    “Which whatsisname?“
    “VanDyne.“
    “Oh?“ Jane was elaborately casual.
    “Yeah, said he was going to give you a call. Hadn’t seen you in a while.“
    “I’ve been right here.”
    Jim glanced up from the offending plumbing, surprised at her arch tone. “Yeah—but he hasn’t, you know. He’s been teaching some law enforcement seminars out in California.“
    “Who are you talking about?“ Cecily Grant asked. “Mel