They paid their bill and headed back to the hospital parking lot, where they wasted ten minutes searching for the car on the wrong parking level before discovering where they were.

“Jeez! I thought a really demented car thief had taken the old station wagon," Jane said when they found it. "What a pity it wasn't true.”

When they were back into traffic, Shelley said, "But what about Tony Belton?"

“What about him?"

“Maybe he's passionate. Hot-tempered.”

“Naw, he's too pretty. Those GQ-looking guys have ice water for blood.”

Shelley turned and stared at her. "What in the world do you know about that?"

“Nothing," Jane admitted cheerfully. "You could be right. We don't know much of anything about him. And with a scheming older woman shoving him along — who knows what he might be goaded into doing. She's a prize schemer."

“So how can we find out more about him?”

Jane pulled into her driveway. "I don't know, but if it involves attending more soccer practices, I'm out. I can hardly sit through the games without going into a coma.”

They got out of the car and Shelley picked up the local combination newspaper/shopper that was lying in the grass between their driveways. She opened it first, as always, to the "Vital Statistics" section with the births, deaths, marriages, and divorces. "Is this yours or mine?" she asked.

“Doesn't matter. I don't read it anyway. I used to check the school lunch menus so I could pack lunches on the days they had things the kids despised, but then one memorable day I had a blinding flash of realization that the kids were capable of opening a paper and reading it themselves, not to mention packing a lunch. It was like getting religion."

“Good God! Jack and Chelley O'Brien had another baby. She's our age and Jack's nearly fifty!”

Jane shuddered. "That would be like having your own grandchildren. Nursing bras and Geritol at the same time."