Grime and Punishment

allowed Jane room to safely negotiate the door with the unwieldy cake. “I didn’t get your name,“ Shelley said to the cleaning lady.
    “Ramona Thurgood, ma’am.“
    “I’ll show you where everything is, Ramona, so you can get started.”
    Jane leaned against the counter, studying the kitchen and wondering how it could possibly look cleaner. Shelley had the sort of house that Jane’s mother would have said you could eat off the floors in—if you didn’t mind the taint of fresh wax and Lysol. As many years as she’d known Shelley, Jane had never figured out just when Shelley did all that cleaning. She’d never caught her at it. Once she’d appeared at the door with a dustrag in her hand, and occasionally Jane was able to discern the scent of fresh furniture polish, but she never actually saw Shelley clean anything.
    But then, there was a lot she didn’t understand about Shelley. They’d become friends, Jane supposed, more through geographical proximity than natural inclination. Over the years, they’d come to spend a lot of time together and had a frank, friendly relationship, in spite of the fact that they were very different. But if they hadn’t lived so close, Jane wasn’t certain she’d have ever learned to like Shelley so well. She was a little too perfect, a smidge too attractive, a bit too bossy and self-assured for most people to warm up to her.
    “You weren’t supposed to make a cake,“ Shelley said when she returned to the kitchen a moment later. “I assigned you a carrot salad.“
    “I know you did, and it’s in my refrigerator,“ Jane said.
    “Yes?“ Shelley cocked a shapely eyebrow.
    “Well, it will be as soon as I fix it. This is Dorothy Wallenberg’s cake. How is it that you can wear a paisley scarf with a sweat suit and look like a model? I wrap a scarf around my neck and I look like Dale Evans.“
    “Don’t be a dolt. You could wear anything if you could just believe in yourself. You looked great last week in that green dress with the gold scarf.“
    “Only because you came over and tied it for me.“
    “Put that cake on the counter. You’re getting icing on your shirt. Frenchy! Stop that!“ she added as a tiny orange poodle came tearing around the corner, legs whirling like a cartoon dog on the slick floor. He sank his teeth into Jane’s pant leg.
    “He really thinks he’s a fierce beast, doesn’t he?“ Jane said, shaking him loose. “Big old Willard would be afraid to attack a piece of notebook paper, and this little thing thinks he can bring me to my knees.“
    “He’s going to the kennel this morning. I’m not having him ripping everyone’s hose tonight and shedding all over—“
    “Poodles don’t shed,“ Jane said.
    “Whoever told you that was trying to sell you a poodle. That reminds me, I didn’t show that woman where the vacuum cleaner is. Won’t be a sec. Pour us some coffee, would you?”
    Jane had their coffee ready and had also put out a plate of cookies when Shelley got back from the basement. Jane was having her first cigarette of the day. She’d been cutting down slowly for months, half-intending to take a plunge into quitting, but not ready yet. This month she was allowed twelve a day: four each in the morning, afternoon and evening.
    “I assume you got the kids off yesterday. How do you think they’ll like Disney World?“ Jane asked when Shelley sat down.
    “They’ll like it fine. It’s the principal who’s hating it. He tried to tell me the only excused absences were for family trips, and I told him they were with family, my sister’s family. Silly man started carrying on about the sanctity of the school day—“
    “He didn’t!“
    “Well, not in those terms, exactly, but it was pretty haughty stuff, so I made him look up their grades and he settled down a little.”
    Brilliant students, Shelley’s kids brought home report cards that made Jane’s mouth water.
    “So when do they come back?“
    “Not till Sunday night, but I’ve got to go to the airport today. To think, when we bought this house I knew how far it was from O’Hare, and I didn’t think that would matter! What a fool.“
    “If the children aren’t coming home, why are you going clear out there?“
    “My mother’s going to Hawaii, and she beat some poor, downtrodden travel agent into scheduling flights so she’d have two hours stopover for lunch with me and another two hours for dinner with my brother Fred in Los Angeles. Here, eat this instead