“Sounds like a match made in heaven," Mel said.

“Not really," Shelley put in. "Rhonda stiffed me for a lunch once, too, but she's so pleasant about it. She's one of those people who make you feel like you're her best friend when you're talking to her. Very chirpy and cheerful and chummy.”

Jane nodded. "That's true. And with the park thing, she was a good worker. She had some great ideas and managed to extract a lot of money from people. I guess practice makes perfect."

“I don't suppose there's any hope that you two could tell me exactly when you saw any of the people you did see?" Mel asked.

“None at all," Jane replied. "We were there for the food, not as witnesses.”

Jane couldn't get to sleep that night. Mike was still out, and she kept listening for him to come home, while telling herself she was being obsessive. In a few months he'd be away at college and she'd never know what time he was coming in. But, as her own mother had frequently told her, "Motherhood is an incurable disease." She reminded herself she had no reason to worry about Mike. Of all her children — of all the children she knew well, in fact — he was the most sensible and responsible. A smart aleck, of course, but sensible just the same. While Katie and Todd threw fits about her rules and restrictions, Mike never had. He just made fun of her.

“Oh, yeah, Mom," he'd said cheerfully when she set his curfew at eleven a few years ago, "I forgot that the knife-wielding mass murderers all have their alarms set for eleven." Laughing in spite of herself, she'd backed off and settled for eleven-thirty.