War and Peas

asked.
    “Money. His aunt’s money, which he counted on getting and didn’t. And the fact that he’s a miserable person who goes around imagining that everybody’s conspiring against him.“ Lisa shuddered a little and suddenly said, “I really appreciate you two letting me blow off steam. I’m sorry—I probably ruined your lunch and said a lot of dumb things I shouldn’t have.“
    “Not in the least,“ Jane assured her.
    “You know, I’ve realized since Saturday that when someone close to you dies, people tend to think the kind, polite thing to do is try to take your mind off it. As if it’s somehow ghoulish or tasteless to even mention the person’s name in polite company.“
    “It’s well meant,“ Shelley said.
    “I know. But it can make you feel that everybody just wants to forget they existed at all. Thanks again for listening. It helps. And thanks for picking up lunch, Shelley. I think this is the first time in days that I just sat down for this long. Oh, give me your receipt and I’ll make sure Sharlene reimburses you.”
    When Lisa had gone, Jane gave the stuffed cat a preoccupied pet and went right back to work so she could push away the thought that was troubling her. To lose a best friend must be an awful thing. If Shelley were suddenly taken out of her life, Jane couldn’t imagine how she’d , cope. Nobody could fill that empty space. And it must be worse for Lisa Quigley, who had no husband or children and, given her work schedule, probably no other close friends.
    Jane forced herself to concentrate on cataloging a collection of turn-of-the-century corsets and petticoats.

    By two-thirty, Jane was more than ready for a break. She used her computer a lot at home: she’d been working—or rather playing—at a story that she hoped would someday miraculously turn into a novel. But at home she was always up and down, throwing in a load of laundry, letting the dog in and out of the backyard, running errands. She seldom sat in front of the screen for such long, intense periods. And the strain was getting to her neck and eyes. She moved over to the board table, sat down, gingerly rested her heels on the very edge of the table, and slouched into the chair. The change in posture hurt, but in a good, stretchy way.
    When the door opened, she hastily sat up.
    “Taking a break?“ Babs McDonald said. “Put your feet back up. You can’t do that table any harm. I did a little nursing during World War Two and the head nurse always told us that if we put our feet up every single chance we got, we’d add at least five years to our lives. You’re Jane, right?“
    “Jane Jeffry, yes.“
    “I’m Babs McDonald. I hope everybody’s fawned over you and your friend Shelley for helping us out. We’re really enormously grateful.“
    “Everybody’s fawned very nicely,“ Jane said with a smile. “And I’m finding it very interesting. Besides, it gets me out of the house and away from my children for a while. By August, that’s a real perk.“
    “Oh, yes. Summer vacation.“ Babs had brought along a cup of coffee and sat down to put a packet of powdered dairy mix into it. “I remember when Daisy was raising Caspar and Georgia. By the end of vacation, she was exhausted.“
    “Daisy Snellen, you mean? She raised—?“ Jane was confused.
    “Not officially, of course, but her brother was—not to speak ill of the dead—but he was a bum. His wife left him and the kids and he pretty much dumped them on poor Daisy. I helped her out as much as I could, but I’m not one of those women with a maternal pilot light that makes me automatically love children. Even very nice children. And Caspar and Georgia weren’t ever especially nice children. You’ve probably met them and could have guessed that.”
    She was stirring in the dairy mix and looking at the result with disgust. Jane was again struck by how well Babs seemed to “fit“ her age. Her thick white hair was in a Gibson Girl type of loose knot on top of her head today. She wore crisply tailored white slacks, an obviously expensive light blue safari-style blouse, and a gorgeous fuchsia, navy, and white silk scarf tied as a belt. She looked both stylish and comfortable, as if it came naturally.
    “I’ve only seen Caspar Snellen once—no, twice, including this morning—and the first time he was very rude.“
    “Oh, he’s his father all over again. But how his father got to be that way is a mystery to me. Old Auguste Snellen was about the