The Merchant of Menace

Sounded good to me and I nodded and agreed, and added suggestions, because I thought she was volunteering to do the whole thing. Then, when she had me thoroughly hooked on the scheme, she mentioned that she, of course, was having her kitchen renovated from the studs out and although the contractor—that nice young Bruce Pargeter guy who put in my pantry shelves—had said he might be done by Christmas, she wasn’t sure she could count on him making the deadline and—“
    “—you volunteered to be hostess?”
    Jane leaned back in her chair and sighed heavily. “God help me, I did! Or she volunteered me. I don’t remember the gory details. It was sort of like a train wreck. One minute I was chattering along, every bit as perky as Julie, and the next minute I’d agreed to have the whole neighborhood in for a buffet dinner.”
    Shelley looked over the cookies cooling on clean pillowcases on Jane’s kitchen counter. “Jane, what are these green things supposed to be?“
    “Elves,“ Jane said drearily. “Little nasty Christmas elves. The cutter looked like an elf, but they blobbed out when they cooked.”
    “They look more like holly leaves—or a fungus growth,“ Shelley said.
    Jane smiled weakly. “But they taste okay. Throw some on a plate and let’s make ourselves sick on them. I couldn’t possibly let anyone else see them.“
    “I can’t move,“ Shelley said. “My feet are stuck to your floor.”
    Jane nodded hopeless acceptance of this criticism. “Corn syrup. I dropped the bottle and the lid came off. I’ve already washed the floor twice and Willard’s licked up as much as he could. Just leave your shoes there.“
    “Thanks, but I’d rather have my shoes stick than my feet.“ Shelley tossed some cookies on a plate, her shoes making a sound like Velcro being pulled apart, and sat down across from Jane. She nibbled a cookie cautiously and smiled. “They do taste okay. So, tell me about Mel’s mother and why she’ll hate you.“
    “Because he’s her only son. He’s a successful detective, up and coming, all that. And I’m a widow with three children, one already in college, which is a dead giveaway that I’m older than he is.“
    “So?“ Shelley said.
    “So she’s going to see me as a predatory old hag, trying to trap her dear boy.“
    “Jane, you don’t know that. She’s going to adore you. Well, if you get this disgusting kitchen cleaned up, that is. And do some major repairs to your hair.”
    Jane shook her head. “Nope, she’s not. Mel’s already said so.“
    “He told you this?“ Shelley said with amazement.
    “Not in so many words. But he keeps mentioning how he’s sure she’s going to like me and my family. And how he’s told her how terrific I am and how he’s really, really sure we’re going to get along great. I can tell he’s desperately trying to convince himself of this.”
    Shelley frowned. “Oh, that doesn’t sound good.“
    “It doesn’t. The more a man reassures me that everything’s going to be fine, the more suspicious I become. And he’s almost to a fever pitch about how well his mother and I are going to hit it off.“
    “At least you don’t have to have her around all the time, do you?“
    “No, she’s staying with Mel, of course. He’ll bring her to the cookie party because I invited her. And Christmas Eve and Day because I’ve invited both of them. Other than that, I don’t imagine I’ll see much of her,“ Jane said. “Of course, I won’t see much of him, either, but since I’ve gotten myself stuck with all this entertaining, I guess that would have been inevitable anyway.“
    “Jane, I think you’re making too much of all this. All you have to do is make the extra cookies and clean up your house—“
    “Both of which are significant hurdles, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
    Shelley glanced around. “The house does have a hint of nuclear holocaust about it. Butyou can manage. And I’ll help with the buffet. Paul might even help us get a good deal with caterers.”
    Shelley’s husband Paul owned a chain of Greek fast-food restaurants. They were enormously successful and neither Jane nor Shelley had ever been able to figure out why. They were in agreement that the food served in the restaurants was inedible. Paul even admitted it but said his policy was “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.“
    “Not Greek,“ Shelley assured Jane. “But he’s subcontracted for a lot of caterers.“
    “Would you trust a caterer