The Merchant of Menace

miracle of it.
    Jane’s mother had once told her that daughters don’t get to be a pleasure to have around until it’s almost time to lose them and Jane was starting to see the truth in that. After a couple years of constant tears, arguments, and raging hormones, Katie was gradually turning into a very nice young woman. And in less than two years, she’d be going off to college.
    Pull yourself together, you sap, Jane told herself briskly. You always turn into a blubbering wimp at Christmastime.
    It didn’t help that Billy Joe Johnson had his music back on. The volume wasn’t nearly so deafening, although Jane could hear every lyric distinctly inside her house and suspected that outdoors it was probably intolerable. Still, she hummed along with the familiar melodies as she finished up the last batch of date-roll cookies and started packing the day’s culinary output into lidded plastic containers that were intended for shoes and sweaters but were perfect for cookie storage. The floor was still sticky. She had inadvertently added some flour to the icing in her hair.
    About nine there was a knock on the kitchen door. Shelley’s special knock. Jane opened the door and Shelley nearly fell in. “Paul’s sister Constanza is on her way over to our house. May I hide here?“
    “Sure, but I was getting ready to take a shower.“
    “Take a shower. Take a long soaky bath if you want. God knows you need it. I’ll eat cookies, watch television, and let myself out when I see her leave.“
    “So you didn’t come for my scintillating companionship?“
    “You’re kidding, right?“ Shelley said, shedding her coat and boots. “Go bathe. Please!”
    Jane took Shelley’s advice and soaked luxuriously, using up a good deal of some expensive jasmine-scented bath salts she’d been saving for a special occasion. Today hadn’t been special in any good way, but she needed a treat.
    When she came back downstairs half an hour later, Shelley was gone and the kitchen was spotlessly clean. The floor shone, the appliances glittered, everything was put away and the dishwasher was humming along. Jane laughed out loud. Shelley just couldn’t stand a mess, not even someone else’s mess. A note on the small blackboard on the refrigerator door said, You need more dishwasher soap and tile cleaner. I stole a dozen cookies. S.
    Jane drifted into the living room, combed out her hair while watching television, and nearly fell asleep on the sofa. It had been a long day. Tomorrow would be even longer. She dragged herself upstairs and cuddled down into her freshly washed sheets. After trying to read for a few minutes, she gave up and turned off the light.
    But the room didn’t get dark.
    She sat back up, confused. Then she realized that one of her bedroom windows was on the Johnson side of the house and the blaze of light from their decorations illuminated her room as if it were broad daylight. She staggered over and pulled down the shade. Not much help. She dragged the drapes across the window. That was a little better. She’d have to get new ones tomorrow that were heavily lined. Great. One y to keep a to hire of all her boring, a secretary r sary errands. XXX
    Back in bed, Jane dropped off into sleep halfway through “O Come All Ye Faithful.”

Three

    Jane was up early the next morning and got a little more cleaning done before even waking Todd and Katie. The clouds had cleared and it was a brilliantly sunny day. Rats, she thought. This meant she had to let Katie drive to school. Katie had her learner’s permit now and was mad to get her hands on a steering wheel at every opportunity, but the rule, so far, was that she could only drive on dry streets. Jane wasn’t up to teaching her the rigors of snow or rain driving yet. Teaching Katie, however, was easier than it had been to teach Mike. For one thing, Jane had anticipated it with Katie. With Mike she’d always assumed his father would take this duty, but her husband had been killed in a car accident before driving lessons had been necessary.
    Mike had been a curb-hugger, nearly nipping off a number of mailboxes and joggers before he learned where the car should be. Katie got the car in the right place on the road and didn’t seem to have any urge to speed. But she complained constantly and bitterly about the car itself. Jane couldn’t really blame her. The beat-up old station wagon really was a disgrace. It was ten years old now and had spent those years hauling innumerable