Jane interrupted. "I'm not doing steps. I'm going up backwards on my butt."

“For several weeks?" Shelley asked.

“If need be." Jane hobbled to the bottom of the three steps up to her deck outside the kitchen and demonstrated how well she could haul herself backwards.

“I hope you don't have any social engagements coming up where there are stairs," Shelley commented.

“Social engagements? No. I'm going to take every advantage of this and lie about looking wan and frail and ask people to bring me ginger ale and Cheez-its at regular intervals.”

TWO

“You did call Katie and Mike, didn't you?" Jane asked when she was installed on the sofa in the living room.

“All you have is Wheat Thins. No Cheez-its. Want wine or soda?" Shelley called from the kitchen. "And yes, I called your kids. Told them not to worry. I didn't call the soccer camp where Todd is, though, because you didn't have the number with you."

“How could you tell them not to worry about me?"

“You want them to worry?"

“It's their turn," Jane said. "I've been the sole worrier in this house for twenty-one years.”

Shelley brought in a plate of crackers and cheese and a soft drink. Somewhere she'd actually found a nice little silver tray and a doily. "Where on earth did you find that?" Jane asked, astonished.

“In that cabinet over your refrigerator. Left over from some party or another."

“There's a cabinet over my refrigerator? I'd forgotten."

“Get your mind off the kitchen. How can we find out what happened to Julie Jackson?" Shelley said, sitting down in a chair next to the sofa.

“I've been so obsessed with myself," Jane admitted, "that I've hardly thought about her. I hope she isn't dead or even seriously hurt."

“It looked serious to me. They don't put up crime tapes when somebody tumbles off a step stool."