Free Pride v. Prejudice by Joan Hess

clothes, including the tiny bikini she was wearing, had revealed a rather curvy figure. Caron had always been first violin; now she was struggling not to play second fiddle.
    â€œBonne chance,” I said, amused at Caron’s pinched expression.
    Inez stopped texting long enough to push back her hair. “To sleep, perchance to dream of Jean-Claude, mon amour .” She looked at me. “Unless you’re expecting someone else, of course.”
    â€œI’m afraid so. Peter’s mother is arriving Monday.”
    Caron’s thumbs froze in midtweet. “Peter’s mother?”
    Inez looked curiously at her. “Is that a bad thing?”
    â€œNo,” I said, “it’s more of a sudden thing. We’ve never met her. She was on a lengthy tour of China when we got married last spring. She sent an antique porcelain figurine as a wedding present.” I clutched my hand to my mouth. “I haven’t seen it since it arrived. We repacked it in the same box so it wouldn’t get broken during the move. But we unpacked all the boxes, didn’t we? I remember labeling it and putting it in the pile behind the dining table.” I tried desperately to visualize the stacked boxes, one adorned with a scrawled Ming Thing. “Are there any unopened boxes in the storage room off the garage?”
    Caron shook her head. “I went out there last week to look for my old yearbooks. There were a couple of boxes of your books, a scruffy suitcase, a stepladder, and a trunk filled with notebooks and letters.”
    Notebooks and letters that I’d forgotten to burn. I watched her face for a sign that she’d snooped through the contents of the trunk. Her lower lip had not shot out, nor were her eyebrows lowered. “You’re sure the porcelain figurine wasn’t there?”
    â€œI opened all the boxes, Mother. I would have noticed if one was stuffed with packing peanuts and wadded-up Chinese newspaper. Right before we moved, you had the thrift store guys haul off a bunch of crap.”
    â€œOh, no,” I gurgled.
    I was battling to breathe as Peter came out to the terrace. He grinned at the girls and then bent down to kiss the top of my head. “Shall I open a bottle of something to celebrate the onset of the weekend? Chardonnay sound okay?”
    Cyanide would have sounded okay. “Yes, dear, that would be lovely,” I said as I shot a warning look at Caron and Inez. “There’s a wedge of brie in the refrigerator, and a box of crackers in a cabinet. Shall I help?”
    â€œStay right here,” he said as he went into the house. Operating a corkscrew tends to make him feel manly, as if he’d grown, picked, and stomped the grapes himself. I would never dream of disillusioning him.
    As soon as I heard the refrigerator door open, I whispered, “What time does the thrift store close?”
    Caron’s eyebrow rose. “How would I know?”
    â€œIt’ll be open tomorrow,” Inez said.
    I felt a tiny twitch of optimism. The figurine was a particularly ugly man with a scowl. One arm was missing, as was a bit of his nose. The glaze had flaked off over the centuries. No one would have given it a second glance, I told myself. I could only trust the thrift store workers hadn’t tossed it in the trash. “I need help,” I said in a low voice.
    Greed flashed across my darling daughter’s countenance. “I’m pretty busy. Joel and I are going to a movie tomorrow night, so I have to get ready for that. You told me I could have people over to swim this weekend, remember? About a dozen are coming Sunday afternoon. I was just going to get chips and dip, but…”
    â€œMoney for pizza?”
    â€œSteaks would be nice,” she said.
    â€œVery nice. However, this is contingent on your success. If you don’t have any luck, I’ll spring for hamburgers. Deal?”
    The abacus inside her head clicked as she