Free Mulch Ado About Nothing by Jill Churchill Page A

him. But the last event we attended together was a big family dinner at my grandmother's. My cousin Edwina was there. People were always mistaking us for each other, we looked so much alike. Edwina was the dearest girl. Not quite as simple-minded as single-minded. She wanted nothing of life but to be a wife and mother. Not at all like me or young women today. Very old-fashioned."
    “You were fond of her," Jane said.
    “I was. I couldn't understand or agree with Edwina's thinking, but admired her sense of know- ing her purpose in life. I was still trying to figure out whether I wanted to be Amelia Earhart or Eleanor Roosevelt or Joan of Arc. She was perfect for Stewart Eastman. We were both pretty girls, but he wanted a compliant, domestic wife, not a bright one. They were married a year after they met.”
    She paused and drew a breath. "Let's get our food and I'll tell you the rest while we eat, if you're interested." She scooted out of the booth and went to look over the food. Shelley handed Jane her crutches and said under her breath, "I don't think this is going to be a story of unrequited love. Come along and show me what you want and I'll fill your plate."
    “Why? The plate, I mean."
    “Have you not noticed yet that you have both hands busy with the crutches? Were you planning to walk around with the plate on your head?”
    Eleven
    The three
women came
back to the table with Y their first course of appetizers. Jane had loaded up on crab Rangoon, Shelley on egg rolls, and Miss Winstead on a single spring roll, which she ate with generous dollops of hot mustard that didn't even cause her eyes to water the slightest bit. The first time Jane had tried this restaurant's mustard, she'd wept, and choked, nearly fainted, and couldn't taste anything for three days afterward.
    Since she was the first to finish, Miss Winstead went on with her story. "Edwina was the perfect wife for Stewart for a couple years. He wasn't the perfect husband, though. She desperately wanted children. He told her they couldn't afford to raise a family on his meager teaching salary while he was getting his advanced degrees. After four or five years, he had his doctorate and was near the top of his field.
    “In the academic world, this meant lots of politicking. Buttering up his betters, entertaining lavishly, and intellectually shining. And Edwina ceased to be of any use to him. She didn't speak the same language as the faculty wives. Her interests were baking and cleaning, not social climbing and back-biting. She was sweet, but rather dim, I have to admit."
    “Poor girl," Jane said. "How did she cope?"
    “She didn't have to," Miss Winstead said with a catch in her voice. "I don't think she ever realized he considered her a liability instead of an asset. She became ill with ovarian cancer. A death sentence in those days. Stewart delivered the divorce papers to her while she was still dopey after the surgery.”
    Jane nearly spit out her food with outrage. "NO!”
    Several other diners turned to look at them.
    “Yes," Miss Winstead said softly. "She lasted only a week longer. She'd simply lost her entire will to live."
    “How can you bear to be around the man?" Shelley asked.
    “It's revenge, I'm afraid. I turn up every time he speaks anywhere in the area. I take notes and hunt down errors to correct the next time he speaks. I owe it to Edwina, poor dear girl, to avenge her. I remind him of her and his cruel treatment every time I show up. Merely by showing up. You must think I'm a real old harridan."
    “Not at all. If something like that happened to someone I loved, I'd hope I have the wit and ability to remind them for the rest of their miserable life," Shelley said passionately.
    Miss Winstead brightened up and said, "Let's get the rest of our food.”
    When they were seated again, Shelley asked, "Do you know about the others in the class as well?"
    “Some of them. Librarians often see only one side of patrons. The side that shows their