“Because you're too young. And you're not as good at driving yet as he was when I got him the truck.”
This was the honest truth. Katie wasn't making progress with driving safely. She was too busy looking around at boys walking down the street, checking her lipstick while driving. Forgetting to lock the car. Forgetting to put on the parkingbrake. Dumping chewing gum in the ashtray. But Jane hated being that honest.
For one thing, Katie was in a snit and jealous of her big brother, and would think it was an excuse for depriving her of her rights.
For another, Jane's own background wasn't anything like Katie's. She hadn't learned to drive until she was almost twenty, because her diplomat family always traveled in limos or trains or taxis or planes. They'd never lived in the same place for much more than six months, and it was never enough to get really familiar with any area, and she simply didn't need to drive until she came home to America for college.
Were daughters always so much more difficult to raise and protect than sons?
And for that matter, was her older son going off the rails after so many years of being so sensible and responsible?
Jane felt seriously tired.
Instead of continuing the argument, Jane had a brainstorm. "Katie, I have an idea. Carry up the coffee cup and towels and I'll tell you about it.”
When Jane finally got to her bedroom, Katie was sprawled on her bed, petting the cats and teasing them with a string, but still looking sulky. "So what's the idea?"
“How about you and Jenny taking a cooking class for the rest of the summer? You'd both have fun, and it would be a way for me to pay back Jenny's folks for taking you to France with them. And it would save me some pain and hassle.”
Katie was determined to stay mad at her mother, but the idea obviously appealed to her. The rest of the summer vacation must have been looming over her as much as it was Jane. "You'd pay for both of us? And let us practice here?”
That was a scary thought, but Jane said, "Of course. As long as you clean up after yourselves. I'll even give you two a grocery allowance.”
Katie was still trying to maintain her sulk, and strolled away saying, "I guess I'll ask Jenny what she thinks.”
But once she was out of the bedroom, Jane could hear Katie running down the hall to call Jenny on her extension.
Sixteen "
Cooking lessons!" Shelley exclaimed the next morning as she was helping Jane into the van. "What a good idea. Could we sign Denise up as well? I'd do anything to get her out from underfoot — take them to the lessons and make sure they clean up your kitchen."
“Yes to Denise, yes to driving them, but no to cleaning. You know you'd end up doing it yourself. Part of any job is tidying up as you go along. That's as important in cooking as the ingredients."
“You're right. Are all your parts and paraphernalia in the van now?”
As she took off backwards in the driveway at a speed Jane wouldn't have driven going forward, Shelley said, "I heard Mike's truck come home after midnight."
“I didn't," Jane said. "I woke suddenly at three A.M. and went to see if he was home. 1 got a crutch stuck in the legs of that foul little table in the upstairs hall, the one that's overbalanced, and woke the whole house up. The kids complained, the cats scattered, and Willard nearly barked himself into a full-fledged fit."
“My aunt Eleanor had a rule you should know about grown kids coming back home. She said the standards in her house were up to her. It didn't matter that they didn't have to come home at a certain time and check in when they were in college or living elsewhere, but when they stayed with her, they were her children and had to live up to her standards."
“And did it work?"
“My cousin Bill got divorced at thirty and moved in with her for a month. He had an eleven-o'clock curfew. If he was so much as a minute late, Aunt Eleanor wouldn't fix him breakfast. Bill lived for breakfast."
“I'm going to have to have a talk with Mike. May I cite you as my authority?"
“Cite away.”
They were the first to arrive at the classroom. Ursula came moments later, having an intense discussion with Miss Winstead about Chinese computer-geek immigrants being banned from getting visas. Somehow the House of Windsor seemed to figure in the theory, but it was impossible to guess whether the Chinese immigrants were the Good Guys or the Bad. But clearly Queen Elizabeth was on the baddies' side. Miss Winstead was preoccupied and had obviously tuned Ursula out, merely nodding and making neutral noises.
Ursula abandoned Miss Winstead when she spotted Jane. "I've got a whole new menu for you tonight. You'll love it. You wash, dry, brown, and grind rye seed from the nursery. Grass seed, my dear. Plain old grass seed. Be sure it's pesticide-free, of course, and it makes the most wonderful muffins to spread with butter flavoring added to tofu. Mine's baking dry right now, and this evening I'll grind it and make you bread."
“No," Jane said firmly. "It sounds interesting, but I'm signing my daughter and two of her friends up for a cooking class today and I really must eat whatever they serve. It's a sacrifice, naturally, but what can a mother do?"
“What a good idea. There's a health food store across town that holds cooking classes. I'll give you the phone number." Ursula rummaged in one of her bags, dropping a computer disk, a huge pair of orange-tinted plastic sunglasses, and a tattered facial tissue on the floor, and finally came up with a scrap of paper and a pencil.
“I sometimes give classes there myself," she said, handing the phone number to Jane. As Jane folded the paper to put it in her pocket, she couldn't help but notice that it was on the back of an advertisement for naturally grown cotton made into bras by downtrodden Mexican immigrants.
“Thank you, Ursula," Jane said with a forced smile.
Arnold Waring and Charles Jones must have met up in the parking lot, because they were well into a conversation about a motion that was supposed to be coming before the town council about what color gardening hoses could be left out in front yards. They were in accord that it was nobody's business but the homeowner's and were each goading the other into attending the meeting and speaking to the issue.
Stefan was just behind them and waiting patiently outside the door until Arnie and Charles finally got out of the way. He sat down behind Shelley and Jane and sorted out some files he'd brought along, mumbling to himself and putting sticky notes on some of the papers.
Jane interrupted him to ask if he knew whether Geneva Jackson was coming along today. He replied that she'd caught up to him at the nearest stop sign and waved him over to say she was going to the hospital to visit her sister, now that Julie was well enough to fend off Geneva's hearty good cheer, which drove sick people wild.
Dr. Eastman finally arrived, winded from hurrying and looking a bit frayed at the edges. Jane wondered if something had happened to him since the day before, or whether Miss Winstead's presence was finally unraveling him.
He looked over the class and said, "Miss Jackson's sister, Geneva, found some of Dr. Julie Jackson's notes she'd prepared for this class. She was tidying up the office when the police finished their examination and came across the file. So instead of the material I'd prepared for today, I think we should go over some of the material she had readyfor you. And after that we'll take a tour of Miss Winstead's garden and Mr. Jones's. If you remember, they live next door to one another.”
He then launched into what would have been Julie Jackson's talk. It was clearly geared for amateurs and was far more interesting to the group than anything Dr. Eastman had said, even though he was reading it with obvious boredom with the basic essentials.
Shelley and Jane took copious notes. The beginning was about soil conditions and was the first time Jane thought she might just eventually understand what grew in acid soil and what preferred alkaline conditions. She'd probably forget it later, but she'd have the clear listings in her notebook. Julie Jackson's voice, coming through Dr. Eastman's vocal cords, was clear and concise. Lists of common plants that liked acid soil in alphabetical order. What to do to alkaline soil to grow them well. Another list of sun and shade plants. Hostas, she said, could take more sun or shade than most people thought.
Dr. Jackson was theoretically opposed to strong chemicals, but admitted everyone needed at least one bottle of weed killer and described how, when, and where to use it, and not use it, and how to protect yourself, the good plants, and the pets and children from the poison.
Furthermore, she listed plants you didn't want to have in a garden if children or pets might try to eat them. The first on the list was monkshood. The second was oleander.
Jane was scribbling like mad and so was Shelley. They'd compare their notes later and fill in the blanks. Jane made a note to tell Shelley about the mystery she'd read once in which someone at a hot-dog cookout was given an oleander stick instead of a harmless one to skewer a hot dog. What was the name of the author?
Dr. Eastman had read Julie's speech so quickly that the class ended early on a somewhat breathless note. A couple of people wanted to backtrack and ask questions. "How do you have your soil tested?" Ursula asked.
Dr. Eastman explained that specialty nurseries might have testing kits, or one could contact the Agricultural Department to provide the material to do the testing.
Mention of a federal agency didn't go down well with Ursula. "How would I know if they were telling me the truth?" she said. "Everybody in the government lies.”
Dr. Eastman, who hadn't been subjected to as much of her philosophy as Jane had, merely looked at her with curiosity. "Why would anyone deceive you about soil acidity?”
Ursula waved this comment away with a gesture that dislodged a small disposable camera from somewhere on her person.
Stefan Eckert asked, "Do Dr. Jackson's notes say anything about water gardens? And the kind of plants that are best for this area?"
“I don't believe so," Dr. Eastman said. "But there's a lot of information available from thecounty extension office. Shall we adjourn the class and go see Miss Winstead's and Mr. Jones's gardens early?”
Charles Jones was on his feet at once. "Excellent idea.”