The House of Seven Mabels (7 page)

"Comfortable. Just barely. But who in their right mind wouldn't like a bit more money to spend?"

"You don't say that with conviction," Uncle Jim said with a smile. "Cough up what this is really about."

"It'll sound silly to you. You have a job. But, Uncle Jim, my job has always been to raise my kids to be independent when they're grown, and I'm almost there. Katie will go to college next year and Todd a couple of years later. I've had my full share of club and volunteer work. I don't want to turn into one of those women who consider bridge night or bingo tournaments with a bunch of their peers the highlight of the week."

Uncle Jim patted her hand. "I do understand, Janey. That's why I'm still plugging away, even though I'm only a desk jockey these days. It isn't the money. It's the pride and challenge of doing something well enough to be paid." He leaned back from the table. "Now, darlin', what's for dessert?"

Bright and early Monday morning, Shelley was at Jane's door. "Let's fortify ourselves with a good breakfast and then tackle Bitsy."

"You're doing the tackling, right? I'm just the cheering section. I hope."

"I'll be happy to carry it out, but you have to read my version of the contract first, so you'll know when to cheer."

"Is it really good?"

Shelley pulled herself up into a pillar of indignation. "Of course."

"I really should call Mel first. He left four messages on my phone over the weekend, explaining that he was finishing up the paperwork on a big case and asking me to call him back. But I was so busy, and the times I did call, he was away from his desk. What a romance. Phone tag only. We're both afraid to leave a sexy message for fear someone else will hear it first."

"Busy with what?" Shelley demanded, ignoring Jane's reply.

"Buying computers."

"Plural?"

"One for me and one for Todd."

"Explain this to me on the way. I want your full attention on the contract while we eat. You need to drive. My van is making a funny noise."

Jane was astonished. "You'd ride in my disreputable station wagon? I'd have cleaned it out if I'd known."

"No, you wouldn't have. But I don't care. Just as long as there's somewhere to sit where there aren't bags of birdseed, dry cleaning, or school papers."

Jane explained how she'd spent the weekend. Shelley, flipping through the contract one last time, paid very little attention except to mutter, "Good for you, Jane."

When they reached the restaurant, Shelley said, "Let me order for both of us. I know what you always get. Start reading."

Jane had known Shelley most of her adult life and knew when it was possible to object to her bossiness. This wasn't one of those times.

She applied herself as diligently as she could and hoped she could finish before they were through eating so Shelley could pay their bill while she tried once again to reach Mel.

It wasn't to be. Shelley finished eating first, continually warning Jane not to spill anything on the contract.

"What would it matter?" Jane said, slightly snippily. "You can always print out a fresh one."

"I want to show Bitsy what a well-done, well-presented contract should look like without sticky bun icing smeared on it. And I don't want to go back home to print a new one. Aren't you through yet?"

"With the contract or my breakfast?"

"Both."

Jane sighed, looking longingly at her now-cold second waffle. "I guess I am. Let's go."

When they'd almost reached the construction site, Jane asked, "Do you think they got rid of the smell? I don't want to go in if they haven't."

"We'll see. I'm determined to get Bitsy away from Sandra anyway. We might just ask her to come outside to talk."

"Are you going to make her read the contract right there in front of you?"

"No. That would be tacky."

"It wasn't tacky when you did it to me," Jane said, showing off, as she spoke, how well she could parallel-park on a busy street.

"I'll give her the contract, pointing out, naturally, how unprofessional hers was. I'll bet you anything Sandra drew it up. Anyway, I'm men going to rat on Sandra about the measured drawings. Just so you know what to expect."

They found Sandra and Bitsy in the end of the upstairs part of the house that was being completed first. Everybody was relieved that the horrible odor was gone. Today two people were starting the Sheetrock. One was obviously a real,

genuine male. Everyone watched as he picked up an eight-by-four-foot sheet as if it were no heavier than a piece of paper and heaved it precisely into place.

He turned around and Bitsy said, "Ladies, meet Carl Stringfield. Isn't he a wonder?"

"He is," Jane and Shelley said at the same time.

Bitsy told him their names and what they'd be doing as if it were already sorted out and a done deal. "And this is Ev," she said as a lithe young woman with dark curly hair entered the room.

"Bitsy, I've asked you not to call me Ev several times. My name is Evaline Berman. Evaline. Got it? Or Ms. Berman. And who are you ladies?" Her expression of discontent suddenly disappeared as she spotted the newcomers.

"Shelley Nowack and Jane Jeffry," Shelley said, shaking hands with Evaline. "We're thinking of being the decorators." There was the barest hint of emphasis on the word "thinking."

"Evaline is the mud person," Bitsy said with a titter. "Isn't that what you call it, usually?"

"That's what Carl calls it. I call it joint cement."

"She's also an inventor," Bitsy continued. "She has a special sort of joint cement that she's patenting. Dries so fast you wouldn't believe it. Sands easily and most often doesn't even require a second coat."

Jane remembered having the garage Sheet-rocked. It took days to dry and made the most awful mess when it was patched and sanded.

White powder seeped into virtually everything in her whole house. "That's very impressive," Jane admitted.

Shelley was trying to get Bitsy away. Sandra was roaming around straightening up tools and debris. She wasn't nearly as well dressed today. She had on designer jeans with a nice scoop-neck T-shirt with satiny trim at the throat, but with the usual high heels and the usual purse practically a part of her body.

Shelley finally succeeded in dragging Bitsy off and made a gesture for Jane to follow. But as Jane started to do so, Evaline said, "Could I have a word with you?"

"Sure." Jane was relieved to have an excuse not to be there for the slaughter.

"This is kind of silly of me, but I've asked for half an hour off this morning to go and sign the patent application," Evaline said. "I'd like it to be a bit of a celebration, but I've only recently moved here and don't have anybody I know to be a witness. The attorney's office is just a block or two away. Will you go with me?"

"I can't tell you how happy that would make me," Jane said. Shelley would have a fit, but then again, Shelley might be on such a roll that she wouldn't even notice Jane wasn't there.

Jane reconnoitered. Shelley and Bitsy were in the dining room on the first floor. As she passed, she said, "I'll be right back. Evaline needs some help."

"Wait…" Shelley's voice faded away as Jane fled. Evaline drove them in her pickup truck, which was spotless.

It was a joy to see Evaline signing her application. She literally glowed with pride and satisfaction. Jane used her best handwriting and the fountain pen Katie had given her last Christmas. The women hugged when the signing was done. Evaline made a move to hug the attorney as well, but he staved her off with a hearty handshake and a promise to let her know when he heard back from the patent office.

As they started back to the construction site, Evaline said, "That was good of you. I hope it goes okay. There are a lot of other people trying to do what I've done. But I think I have the best formula I know of. I've checked out all the others that are currently on the market. They do dry faster than they used to and the texture is finer than before. But unless luck is against me, I'll be the first to be able to market mine."

"Let me give you my address and telephone number," Jane said, pulling out her checkbook and tearing off a deposit slip. "I've always thought that if I got a real business card, I'd have it designed to make it look like a deposit slip."

Evaline laughed out loud, then said, "Could I ask one more favor? I'm almost out of something I need for the next batch of joint cement. It's from the grocery store. It would take me only a second."

It was less than five minutes, and Evaline had

whatever it was wrapped in a large, apparently heavy paper bag that was sealed closed with strong tape. "Don't mean to be secretive with you, but the attorney warned me to be very careful no one else in the world knows what's in this mix."

"That's good advice," Jane replied. "I'm surprised at how comfortable it is to ride in this truck. I'm thinking of getting a new vehicle to replace my elderly station wagon. What I most want is something with good shock absorbers. I always feel like a pea being rattled around in a can in what I've got."

Evaline started the engine and said, "This is the greatest thing I've ever had, and I'll have to keep it in good running condition forever."

As they were pulling out of the grocery store parking lot, another car behind them turned the other way. "Isn't that Sandra?" Jane asked.

"Might be," Evaline said, glancing at the rearview mirror. "I think her car is a darker blue. But about a million people have a car like that. Come to think of it, half a million have a truck exactly like mine. The first day I parked this baby," she said, patting the front dash, "I came back out and got in the wrong one and said to myself, 'Who in the hell left this crummy coffee cup in my brand-new truck?' before I realized it wasn't mine. That's why I have that tinsel bow on the hood ornament."

"I'd love for that to happen to me. I drive the

rattiest old station wagon still on the road," Jane said with a laugh. "And I've never seen one remotely like it."

"I wish we had the time to celebrate in style, but we both need to get back. Maybe a beer after work and some really good pretzels," Evaline said.

"You're on. But only if Shelley doesn't kill me first."

"Why would she?"

"Because I was supposed to stand by and be supportive when she told Bitsy what was wrong with the contract she was offering us."

Evaline grinned. "One of Sandy's contracts, huh? I got one, too. I rewrote it."

"Did that work?" Jane asked.

"Pretty much so. At least I went from being slave labor to contract labor."

"I'm afraid Shelley's is too far from realistic. Maybe that's a good thing."

"I could tell you two weren't nutcases the minute I met you," Evaline said as they arrived back at the house under construction. "I bet neither of you let her call you by a man's name. Shelley would be Shel, no doubt, but it's hard to make Jane sound butch enough."

Apparently Shelley hadn't
needed
backup and wasn't angry with Jane for running off.

"So how did it go?" Jane screwed up the courage to ask.

"Wonderfully/' Shelley said. "I showed Bitsy the errors and conditions of the contract. She started apologizing, saying she shouldn't have turned that over to Sandra to do. Bitsy said she didn't know much about contracts, but at least she did know good English from bad. She was truly indignant about the grammatical errors and misplaced apostrophes."

"And then?" Jane prodded.

"I showed her the house plans," Shelley said. "I was surprised that she realized for the first time without my even saying it that there was no indication of who had done them. Then she asked who'd penciled those other numbers in for the dimensions. I told her it was I. And didn't she remember how annoyingly thorough we were when we took the exact measurements?"

Shelley couldn't have looked more pleased if she'd singlehandedly conquered a whole country.

"I presume you suggested that she fire Sandra?"

Shelley grabbed Jane's hands as if they were girls. "I didn't even get the chance. Can you believe it? She said straight out that Sandra would be gone by tomorrow."

"And how is this job to proceed?" Jane asked. "Bitsy doesn't know enough to be a contractor."

"She said she'd consulted someone else first. A man, though. Sandra heard about it at one of their empowerment meetings."

"Empowerment meetings?" Jane exclaimed.

"You don't want to know," Shelley assured her, releasing Jane's hands as she spoke. "Anyway, Sandra knew about her considering this man, someone named Joe, and said a lot of bad things about him. So Sandra drags Bitsy aside for dinner after the empowerment meeting and does her own cheerleading. Talks about all her own credentials, which may or may not have been true, according to Bitsy."

"She didn't even check them out?" Jane asked.

"She checked one thing and it was wrong because the college Sandra said she graduated from had no record of her. Bitsy even gave them her married name and they still came up blank, but she put it down to a fouled-up computer program at the college. Bitsy said she got so busy with the plans that she forgot to go back and check any more of the references."

Jane plunged her fingers into her hair in pure frustration at Bitsy's naivete. "I can't believe it!"

"Quit interrupting or I'll lose the thread. Sandy gave her the feminist pitch. It must have turned Bitsy's brains to mush. It was odd, though. Bitsy repeated some of what Sandra said."

"Like what?"

"The domestic angle, apparently. How no matter what the law said, Sandy told her, homes were always women's. They set the schedule, made the meals, hired what help they needed, raised the children, knew instinctively when the dishwasher was making a noise it shouldn't, so the best people to restore the house would be women.