From Here to Paternity

asked when her mother came in.
    The girls had MTV on, but, knowing Jane’s loathing of the station, they switched to a movie channel as soon as she appeared.
    “Oh, here and there,“ Jane said. “Mel and I ate at the fancy restaurant. You wouldn’t believe what we had for dinner. Oh, look what movie’s starting!“
    “Just some old thing,“ Katie said, glancing over her shoulder.
    “Some old thing! That’s blasphemy! It’s An Affair to Remember ! Don’t tell me you’ve never seen it.“
    “Naw, I don’t think so.“
    “Then sit down right now. You can’t grow up until you’ve watched it. You’ll love it. Believe me.“
    Katie and Denise exchanged quick looks that said, Mothers. What can you do ? and dutifully took their places side by side on the sofa.
    “Did I see some microwave popcorn in the kitchen?“ Jane asked. “I’ll fix us a bunch. And find a box of tissues. You’ll need them before it’s over.“
    Two hours later, they all stumbled to bed, weeping happily.

    Saturday morning, Jane called Shelley, “I didn’t wake you, did I?“
    “No. I was debating about when to call you,“ Shelley replied.
    “How’d your dinner go?“
    “Lovely. Tenny arranged it all and the food was fantastic. I called around, trying to find you about nine last night. Where were you?“
    “Oh… here and there. Want to come over? I’ve got lots to tell you. Did you know Mrs. Schmidtheiser died last night?“
    “No! Oh, how awful. Poor thing. What was it? A heart attack?“
    “Maybe so. Maybe not.“
    “Jane! What do you mean by that?“
    “I’ll tell you all about it when you get here. Give me about twenty minutes. The girls are going to try skiing, and I told them I’d go over to the bunny slope with them and make sure they had everything they need. Like money, I suspect.“
    Jane was slightly delayed by Willard. The green-eyed white cat had made another casual appearance on the deck, and this time Willard saw it and went berserk. When she took him outside a few minutes later, he was determined to find the cat and, as he was on a leash, dragged Jane all over the woods before she managed to haul him back inside. But she and the girls finally got on their way.
    It had snowed again overnight, and there hadn’t been enough skiers yet to mess up the pristine sweep of the slope. A few hearty souls had already trudged up the hill, making a sloppy herringbone pattern with their skis and wobbling tracks coming back down. The three instructors were helping others get ready to ski. Jane sat down on a bench at the bottom of the slope and waited patiently as the instructor showed the girls how the skis attached to their boots, demonstrated a few basics, and sent them up the hill.
    Jane told the devastatingly handsome young instructor her name and room number, just in case one of the girls broke a leg or something.
    “Don’t worry, ma’am. Nobody’s ever gotten seriously hurt on this slope. It’s a baby hill. And most people don’t break their legs anyway. They break their thumbs.“
    “Thumbs? How—?“
    “With the ski pole when they fall. It’s hard to make newbies understand they have to let go and just fall freely. They want to hang onto something and all they’ve got is the pole. It whips around and snap !“
    “Oh, that’s a big comfort to know. Thanks.“
    The instructor grinned dazzlingly. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of them. They’re not as fragile as mothers think.“
    No, not physically, but you could break their hearts with that smile , Jane thought.
    She sat watching them for a few more minutes and decided their chances of ever getting to the top of the hill were so remote that she didn’t need to worry about how they got back down. Each of them had already fallen a couple of times just trying to master the awkward toes-out method of climbing. Right now they were both lying facedown in the snow, laughing uncontrollably.
    Above them, Jane caught a glimpse of crimson and noticed that it belonged, once again, to the skier she’d seen twice yesterday. He or she must be somebody who regularly did some kind of cross-country skiing. Maybe a local person. He—there was, Jane decided, something essentially masculine in the stride—stopped as she watched. Put binoculars—no, a camera—to his face. And then fumbled around in his jacket. It looked as if he’d taken out a small pad or book and might be writing something in it. How strange. Some kind of nature study or bird