A Quiche Before Dying

coleslaw.“
    “Don’t spill anything on yourself,“ Shelley said, squeezing in next to Jane and trying to snake her arm through for a ham and egg roll. “I should have thrown a drop cloth over you to keep you tidy. Go sit down.“
    “I am sitting down. It just looks like I’m standing,“ Jane said with a laugh. “It’s the press of the crowd that’s keeping me at this level.”
    Jane finally extricated herself and went to the table, balancing a plate. Someone had apparently mistaken her plate for his or her own in the crush and put a glop of something with rice and coconut on hers that she would never have considered even tasting. Someone must have filled a plate for Mrs. Pryce, probably the maid, because Pryce hadn’t been fighting the crowd in the kitchen. She was sitting at the head of the table in regal splendor in a thronelike chair that was the match of the one she’d occupied earlier.
    “Where’s my tea?“ Mrs. Pryce suddenly said to the room at large. Those who were struggling to sit down and finding themselves literally rubbing elbows ignored her. “I guess I just have to do everything myself,“ she said, struggling to her feet and barging toward the pantry hallway.
    “Funny, I had the impression she did nothing herself,“ Missy said.
    “Is there salt on the table?“ Desiree asked. There was a general shifting as everyone looked for it. “Oh, there. Bob, next to you.“ Everybody had to shift their elbows around to pass a china salt shaker in the shape of a thatched cottage.
    “Sorry, Grady,“ Missy said as she jostled his arm, causing him to drop his spoon.
    “What is this green stuff?“ somebody asked.
    Ruth kept looking back over her shoulder at the multitudinously brown tapestry as if it might suddenly fling itself over her head and smother her. Every time she craned around, she jostled her sister, Naomi, who was picking fretfully at her food.
    “Is this part of you or me?“ Cecily asked Shelley, slowly adjusting her legs under the table.
    “Oh, I didn’t get anything to drink either,“ Jane said, getting back up. “Mom? Shelley? You want-anything?“
    “I’ll get myself some coffee,“ Shelley said, joining her. The crowd in the hall had thinned out, and there was no sign of Mrs. Pryce. Jane noticed that there was another door to the kitchen, presumably leading to the gloomy front hall. Mrs. Pryce must have gone that way. The maid was sitting on a high stool by the sink, staring out the window and absently picking at a hangnail.
    Jane and Shelley got their drinks and returned to find most of the others crawling around on the floor, trying to help Grady find his contact lens. Mrs. Pryce found it by stepping on it as she came through from the living room. Instead of apologizing to Grady, she gave a general lecture on the wickedness of modern things, pointing out that spectacles were good enough for her generation.
    “Okay, that’s all I can stand,“ Grady said, huffing a little as he got up from the floor. “Could somebody drive me home to get my glasses?”
    There was a deafening chorus of volunteers.
    “I’ve got to pick up something for class anyway,“ Missy outshouted the rest. “I’ll take you, Grady. There won’t be time to get back. We’ll see the rest of you later,“ she said, all but skipping in her haste to escape.
    Jane watched them leave, sadly. She glanced at her watch. They’d only been there half an hour, and it already seemed like days and days. If it weren’t for her obligation to her mother—and to Priscilla—she’d have run sobbing after Grady and Missy, begging to go with them.
     

7
     
    “I think a teacher ought to be like the captain of a ship—the last one off in case of disaster,“ Jane said darkly to Missy as they came into the classroom.
    Missy laughed. “You’re all grown-ups, and perfectly able to fend for yourselves. And you did survive, or you wouldn’t be here to bitch at me now.”
    Jane slipped another envelope onto the desk. “A little more of Priscilla,“ she said in a low tone.
    “Oh, good! Jane, I want to talk to you about this. Can I come by in the morning?“
    “Sure.”
    The rest of the class was trailing in, giving Missy and Grady dirty looks. Grady looked guilty. Missy didn’t. Mrs. Pryce was last. She again took her place center front. Nobody would have dared to take her place.
    “I still smell like that house,“ Shelley muttered.
    Missy started her lecture. “Tonight I want to start class by