Silence Of The Hams

off everything.”
    Shelley said, “Grace, I hardly recognized Sarah. I mean, she looks the same, but I remembered her being really bubbly and outgoing.“
    “People change,“ Grace Axton said shortly, and added with a laugh, “I didn’t used to have a neck like a chicken, either, but we’re not in high school anymore.“
    “You have a perfectly fine neck,“ Shelley objected, “but if you saw the back of my upper arms—“ After a few chummy, if depressing, comments about aging and the exchange of the names of a couple plastic surgeons, Grace moved off to greet other newcomers.
    Mike stopped by to thank Jane again for the truck, then, carrying a cardboard box full of paper bags and cartons, went on his first delivery. As he went down the sidewalk, Shelley murmured, “I can’t believe it. Look who’s coming.“
    “What a hell of a nerve,“ Jane agreed as Robert Stonecipher stepped in the door and glanced around critically. With his showy white hair and handsome features, he looked as if he had been designed as part of the decor. Or he would have, had he not been scowling.
    “And he’s got his pet dog with him,“ Shelley added, glaring at the sour-looking old man who was right behind Stonecipher.
    “Who’s that?“
    “I can’t think of his name. I always want to call him Foster Brooks,“ Shelley said. “Foster Hanlon, that’s it. He’s been hopping up and down and talking ugly about the deli opening, too.“
    “But they’ve lost the battle. Why would they show up for the opening? You’d think they’d be embarrassed to visit the site of their defeat. Who’s the woman with them?“ Jane asked, eyeing the newcomer. She was not especially young, but was one of those terribly “fresh“ people who always look as if they’d just stepped out of a tepid shower and a brisk rubdown with something organic that was awfully expensive and environmentally sound.
    “Oh, you know her, Jane. That Emma per- son who taught the aerobics class we took. Emma Weyworth—no, Weyrich.”
    Jane shuddered at the memory. In a rare fit of healthiness, Shelley had insisted that the two of them shape up and had enrolled them in the class at the community center. They lasted fifteen minutes. When the instructor called for a short break, they gathered their belongings and crept away. But Emma had seen their break for freedom and followed them to the parking lot to try to drag them back with a lot of what Jane considered highly personal and insulting remarks about how much they both needed to improve their bodies.
    “It figures she’d be hanging out with Stonecipher,“ Jane said. “Health nuts, both of them.“
    “I think she’s his secretary as well,“ Shelley said. “Or a paralegal or something.”
    The threesome entered the house and Jane and Shelley went back to sampling and reviewing the food they’d been served.
    They visited with a few other neighbors, some of whom had vaguely (and silently) opposed the deli, but had been won over by the quality of the food and the decorating. “It really doesn’t look like a business,“ one said grudgingly. “I was afraid it was going to be a real blight. But except for the sign out front, you’d think it was just a well-kept old house.
    It must have cost a fortune to renovate it. I hear it was Grace Axton’s money. I don’t imagine the Bakers came back here with a pot to pee in.”
    Conrad was circulating with another tray of goodies, to which Jane and Shelley shamelessly helped themselves. The deli was becoming more crowded by the minute, and they finally, reluctantly, gave up their places at the small table, leaving a humiliating pile of crumbs.
    “It looks like we rubbed our food in instead of eating it,“ Jane whispered.
    “Let’s peek at the kitchen before we leave,“ Shelley said, nearly tripping over a toddler in her haste to distance herself from the scene of culinary devastation.
    It was a kitchen to die for. Vast white countertops, steel sinks, two brushed-chrome fronted dishwashers, and every imaginable appliance. Around the soffit hung an array of copper utensils that made Jane’s mouth water, even though she knew she’d hate having to clean them. Today the food was being served on plastic plates because of the crush, but in the future the serving dishes would be the oval green plates that were stacked in the open cabinets. The serving dishes alone represented a mind-boggling financial investment.
    After admiring everything, Jane said,