"Buy the very best quality, take excellent care of it, and hand it on to another generation," Jane had once heard the woman say. The old lady actually got extra fabric when each of her suits was made and had it cleaned with the suit so that it would match when it was needed to make alterations for another decade's — or generation's— use.

Lila Switzer's suit could have been purchased during World War II at tremendous expense and cleaned and altered over half a century — and still looked good. The same could be said for her shoes, briefcase, handbag, and perfect old-fashioned hair. She's wearing Grace Kelly's hair! Jane thought to herself.

"So you're Shelley's neighbor," Crispy said.

"Yes, for years now." Jane was relieved that no

one had spoken to her until she got back into familiar territory. She wasn't good at highway driving and chatting at the same time. They hadn't even talked much to each other. Avalon rode in front with Jane and hadn't said a word. She'd hauled some knitting needles and mouse brown hairy yarn out of one of her bags as soon as they got to the car and clicked the needles all the way. In the backseat, Crispy and Lila, apparently in a state of uneasy truce, sporadically compared notes on some classmates. Who'd married, divorced, had interesting operations.

"Are you married?" Crispy asked, tapping Jane on the shoulder.

"Widowed," Jane answered.

"Oh, God! I've never had any of mine die on me!" Crispy said. "How awful for you. I'm so sorry I asked."

"Don't be," Jane said pleasantly. "Your asking didn't make it happen. And it's more or less okay that it did."

"Who else is coming to this meeting?" Lila demanded, apparently feeling that talk of death was gauche. Or perhaps she was merely bored with a conversation that had nothing to do with her.