The House of Seven Mabels (6 page)

"You're
sure
that's it?"

The smile faded. "Excuse me, Miss Milton. You're not suggesting that Todd cheated, are you?"

"I'm not suggesting it at all, but I'm forced to ask when there's such a remarkable difference."

"When was this test taken?" Jane asked.

Miss Milton told her date.

"I've got my datebook in the car. Let me get it."

When Jane returned, she had the datebook open to the week in question. "Monday he did his social studies homework right after school and was allowed to go to a seven o'clock showing of a movie. I picked him up. Here's the note of the time I was to be there," she said, pointing to the entry. "It's not noted here, but he came home, watched a television program with me about some sort of little furry African animals I've forgotten the name of, and went to bed with the lights out."

"So he wasn't memorizing something late into the night?"

"Certainly not."

"Mrs. Jeffry, I'm sorry I had to ask. Todd is a nice boy and you have a reputation for raising bright children. I've checked Mike's and Katie's records. I'm simply required to confirm that he's actually made this improvement."

"Miss Milton, Todd's always been a lazy student. He's very bright about things he wants to be bright about. But it's too easy to slide by with a B

average. I think I can promise you there was no cheating done."

"Mrs. Jeffry, I believe you a hundred percent. As I said, I'm required to ask."

Good news, bad vibes,
Jane thought as she drove home. With a bit of the third child syndrome thrown in. Had she failed Todd? Was there the slightest chance he would cheat? No.

She stopped at Shelley's house before going home. "Sorry to interrupt you, but I want to tell you something," Jane said. She recounted the conversation with the teacher.

"How outrageous!" Shelley exploded. "Todd? Todd cheat? No way, Jane."

"He's always been the quietest and most self-sufficient of my kids," Jane said. "I didn't have to badger and nag him as I did Mike and am still doing with Katie. Have I completely misjudged him? Have I accidentally neglected him?"

"I'd like to slap you upside the head for even saying that," Shelley said. "Of course not. How many of his soccer games have you sat through, even though soccer bores you senseless? How much did you spend on Legos when he was only interested in them? You didn't leave the house for a full week when he had his tonsils out. He told my son that you treated him like a baby and nearly drove him crazy bringing him Jell-O and soft drinks. You've driven him all over the place for camps. You've done the room-mother thing for

him. He's a thoroughly nice kid. Just quiet and self-contained compared to your older kids. Come to think of it, I'd rather slap that teacher upside the head instead for even putting the thought in your mind."

"I would, too. But she was right. When a kid improves that dramatically, it could be a good sign or a sign of cheating. She had to ask. I don't blame her. She hardly knows him and she'd never met me."

"Then I'll put off beating her up," Shelley said with a grin. "You've just raised a mathematical genius and neither he nor you knew it until now. You've said he's taking school seriously this year. This score is the payoff, Jane. Just go home and praise him."

"Thanks, Shelley. Maybe I did need that metaphorical slap."

Jane went home and thought a little more about it. There's nothing worse for a single parent — maybe
any
parent — than to think a child has been ignored or neglected, but Shelley was right. She'd done right by Todd. He just wasn't as blabby as the others. He didn't even talk much until he was practically two years old. But he watched and listened to everything with interest.

When he became older, he was obsessed for several years with Legos. Then he left that behind, put all the little pieces, hundreds of them, in a box still stored in the basement, and lived for soccer. But without explanation, he hadn't even

joined a team last summer. He'd left soccer behind for math. He made the decision himself, as he usually did. That was a good thing. Showed a sense of purpose. A willingness to take on a new obsession.

She went upstairs to hunt him down to compliment him for his score, but he had the first word. "Mom, can you help me work out something on your computer?"

"What's that?"

He showed her a big chart he was creating. "This isn't a good way to do it. I'd have to copy it over and over again."

The sheet had a hand-drawn grid. Each square had a number. Some of the numbers were circled. "What is this?" Jane asked. "Oh, wait. I think I might know."

"It's about prime numbers. Do you know what they are?" Todd asked.

"Of course I do. They're the numbers like seven and eleven that can't be evenly divided by other numbers."

Todd was surprised. "So I was reading something this summer about prime numbers. Nobody's ever found a pattern for them. The larger they get, the fewer there are."

"That's right. They get so many new divisors."

"Right. So there must still be a pattern of some kind. Maybe it's a spiral, maybe a long rectangle. Maybe the pattern goes from high to low. See why I need to do this on a computer?"

Jane nodded. "So you can list a whole lot of them, mark the primes, and rearrange them."

Todd stared at her. "Gosh, Mom. I didn't know you knew about this kind of stuff."

"I liked math when I was your age, come to think of it. And before you kids were born I did the bookkeeping for the Jeffry family pharmacy."

"So could we move your computer out of the basement? I hate it down there. Maybe we could set it up in the living room."

"How about the dining room? We don't use it as often. Better yet, why don't we get you your own computer and you can help me move mine to my bedroom."

His eyes lit up like beacons. "You'd really do that? Buy me a computer? All my own?"

"It's an investment in your future, kiddo. Who knows, you might turn into another Einstein and support me in my old age. Now, what I came up here to tell you about is this. I had a talk with your math teacher this afternoon. You know that test you took at the beginning of school? "

"The math and language one? Yeah?"

"You're over the ninety-ninth percennle in math."

"Way cool! I'll bet the teacher thought I cheated."

"No, of course she didn't," Jane said. "Let's go buy some computer magazines before I have to fix dinner and see what's the best deal. But no modem. I don't want you roaming the Internet. There's a lot of nasty stuff there."

Todd rolled his eyes. "Mom, we have comput-

ers at school that block that stuff. You can do that yourself if you don't trust me. But there's got to be a lot of stuff on the Internet about prime numbers. You don't want me to reinvent the wheel, do you?"

"As much as I'll eventually regret saying this, Todd, you're right."

J
ane spent the next two
days
studying computer magazines and making notes of costs and features. She and Todd went out both evenings looking them over. He was remarkably patient with her for being so thorough, especially because she had to keep asking clerks to remind her what the difference was between RAM and ROM. Todd knew which side his bread was buttered on and kept out of the discussion.

Jane was astonished to learn how little a computer costs these days. She had an old, slow one that she'd bought in a fit of pique one summer when the kids were driving her crazy and someone at the bank convinced her she needed it to do her budget. She'd paid at least four times what they cost now.

Jane couldn't quite believe she was doing this. She'd been so parsimonious for so long until that summer, when she'd had a bit of an epiphany when she broke her foot and decided she really didn't have to behave as a pauper. The kids had

their college funds set up. Her house had been paid off by her late husband's life insurance policy. Computers were necessary for kids now. And a better one was a justifiable purchase for her. She didn't need a new monitor or printer, so hers would be cheaper than Todd's.

She didn't even spot Shelley those two days. She assumed Shelley must have been busy redoing the contract, which was as close as she got to thinking about Bitsy's house renovation.

Finally she called her Uncle Jim early on Saturday morning. He worked for the Chicago police force and was far more knowledgeable about computers than she was. Jim was only an honorary uncle, an old friend of her family.

Jane said, "Uncle Jim, tell me what kind of computer to get. Don't explain why, please. I'm overloaded with information I don't understand. Just tell me brand and model. I'm getting one for Todd and one for myself."

Laughing, Uncle Jim named one. "Want me to load things from your dinosaur on there before you get started?"

"Oh. Can that be done?" She'd been afraid she'd have to completely retype the whole manuscript.

"I'll bring my stand-alone Zip drive and download what you want to keep. The computer you're getting already has an internal one to transfer it to and move it all onto the new one. How about a pork roast with mashed potatoes for

dinner at your house tonight? I'll come over early. I'm off duty at two."

"A small price to pay. Thanks, Uncle Jim."

"Why are you getting two?"

"Because Todd and I would fight over a good one. And he needs one of his own."

"Why's that?"

"I'll explain over dinner. Or let Todd explain."

"Okay. Do you remember what I said to get?"

"I think so," Jane said.

"Write this down. Exactly as I say." He made her read it back.

By Saturday at one o'clock, both Jane and Todd had computers in the house, somewhat unpacked and instructions sitting out. Todd, thank goodness, had his desk free since the last hamster died and he got rid of the elaborate cage.

Jane had the roast just starting to warm up when Uncle Jim arrived.

"Janey, darlin', your house smells so good. Did you get the computers I told you to?"

"Would I ask for advice and ignore it? Five o'clock and the food will be on the table."

Jim had Todd's computer ready to go and Jane's new one set up on her desk and running as she set the last part of the meal, the salad, on the dining room table.

"Mom, may I take my plate upstairs?" Todd asked.

Jane looked to Uncle Jim for approval. He nod-

ded and said, "But don't spill anything on the keyboard."

Todd, to Jane's relief, didn't make a face or mention that this warning was obvious.

"So what's this all about, Janey?" he said when Todd was gone.

She explained about Todd's amazing math score and the prime number deal. She didn't get into the teacher's suspicions. No reason to upset him. He'd have been even madder than Shelley had been.

"I'm glad you've done this for him. And for yourself. You've always been too damned stingy with yourself. I guess the Jeffry pharmacies are going well. I saw another new one on my way over."

"They're making money hand over fist. I almost feel guilty about my share of the money. I don't do any of the work."

"But that was the deal when you used that inheritance of yours to bail them out when they were about to go under, wasn't it? And the one good thing your husband did was to insist you'd get his third share forever as part of the deal."

"He didn't exactly mean to die and leave it to me," Jane said. "But I'm glad it was written that way. And it's finally allowed me to get the college funds set up and spend a bit on myself."

"It must break Thelma's heart," Jim said, rubbing his hands together. He'd harbored a strong dislike for Jane's mother-in-law for decades.

"I'm not so sure. Steve's brother Ted's wife, Dixie, still hasn't had the baby they so desperately want, and Thelma's crazy about grandchildren. Not so crazy about me, though. I think if I hadn't had the kids when Steve died, she'd have tried to contest the contract."

"She wouldn't have gotten anywhere with that," Jim said. Changing the subject, he asked, "So how are your folks doing in Denmark?"

"They must be fine," Jane said. "I haven't had an E-mail from them for the last week. This trip is just a vacation. Not a diplomacy job."

"Speaking of jobs, how are you filling your free time?" Jim asked.

Jane laughed. "You wouldn't believe what Shelley's trying to get us into. A feminist home renovation. Don't look at me like that, Uncle Jim. We haven't agreed to do it yet. Shelley's rewriting the contract they offered us and really jacking up the perks."

"What in the world do the two of you know about renovating?"

"We're just to be the decorators."

Jane explained about Bitsy and her influx of money. About Sandy. About Jack and Henry. With a couple of days of not thinking about it, it seemed outrageously funny even to her. But when she got to the story of the spoiled shrimp in the air ducts, Jim asked, "Did anyone 'fess up?"

"Nope. Not that I know of. The furnace guy who'd done the duct work was furious."

"Of course
he
was. Was it some idiot's idea of a joke or sabotage?" Jim asked.

"I don't know. Bitsy thinks her ex-husband is responsible. That must have been one of the nastiest divorces in history. Aside from a few of Henry the Eighth's that come to mind."

"I'd be careful of taking this job if I were you," Jim said. "I don't want to overstep my bounds, but that's my advice."

"I think I agree. The contract we were given wasn't even grammatical. And Shelley says it's outrageously stingy. But if she can put over the one she's working on, it could be fun for us and very profitable."

"I thought you were just talking about already being financially comfortable."