LITMIR.BIZ

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I’ve been reading up on this,” said Steffie. “My son, Will, is only three, but it’s never too early to start planning. And the experts say that early decision definitely increases your chances at the top schools.”

      “Does it really? I didn’t know that,” said Rachel. “Actually, Richie’s grandfather went to Harvard, and I think that had more to do with his admission than anything else.”

      “Really?” asked Steffie, her eyes round in surprise. “I didn’t know they took Jews way back then.”

      For a moment the women stood in shocked silence. Then Rachel spoke. “You’re probably right, though I’m sure it’s nothing they’re proud of today. And anyway, it was my dad who went, and he’s not Jewish. My maiden name is Webster. For the record, Bob’s folks are Jewish, but I have to confess we don’t really practice any religion at all.” She chuckled. “On Sunday mornings we walk the dog and read the paper.”

      “I didn’t mean to give the wrong impression,” said Steffie, realizing she’d made a blunder. “It doesn’t matter to me what religion you are. Can I help you with those cookies?”

      Hearing a knock, Lucy opened the door. As she suspected, it was Franny, who preferred a quiet rap to the gong of the doorbell.

      “It’s just me and Lydia,” she said, with a nod toward her friend, kindergarten teacher Lydia Volpe. “I hope I parked OK. I didn’t want to block anybody in.” She was looking anxiously over her shoulder.

      “She’s parked fine,” said Lydia, with a shrug. “I kept telling her.”

      “I’m sure it’s fine. Let me take that,” said Lucy, reaching for the cookie tin Franny was clutching to her bosom.

      “Just the same old Chinese noodle cookies—I’m not much of a cook and you don’t have to bake them. You just melt the chocolate and add the noodles and peanuts and drop them on waxed paper. I could never make pizzelles like Lydia—I don’t know how she does it. They seem so difficult.”

      “Not really,” said Lydia. “Trust me. I’m not really a good cook—not like my mother.”

      “Well, I’m sure they’re both delicious. As always. My kids love them. It wouldn’t be Christmas without them.”

      “You’re sweet to say so, Lucy,” said Franny, idly picking up one of the pamphlets.

      “If we brought mudpies, Lucy would find something nice to say,” joked Lydia.

      “Don’t the cookies look good this year? Don’t tell me you made this cake, Lucy. It looks delicious,” said Franny.

      “Mmm, it does,” agreed Lydia. “Now what can we do to help?”

      Lucy looked up as the door flew open and Pam Stillings and Andrea Rogers sailed in.

      “Would you be dears and bring in the coffee? The pot’s in the kitchen. And the tea water ought to be ready, too.”

      “Be glad to,” said Lydia, as she and Franny headed for the kitchen.

      Lucy went to greet the new arrivals.

      “We didn’t ring the bell—we figured you’d have your hands full,” announced Pam, who was married to Lucy’s boss at The Pennysaver, Ted Stillings.

      “Well, come on in and make yourselves at home. You know where everything is.”

      “I made my usual decorated sugar cookies,” said Andrea, handing a basket to Lucy. Her eyes were bright, and her color was high. Lucy wondered if she had a fever.

      “Are you feeling OK?” she asked in a concerned voice.

      “Who me? I’m fine,” said Andrea, avoiding Lucy’s eyes and looking around the hallway to the rooms beyond. “Doesn’t everything look wonderful? I’m so glad you decided to continue the cookie exchange. It’s such a wonderful tradition.”

      “How many years, Lucy?” inquired Pam.

      “It must be sixteen, anyway,” guessed Lucy.

      “That’s right. I think Adam was still in diapers when I came for the first time.”

      “And Tim hadn’t even begun playing baseball, yet,” said Andrea, who always thought of her son’s growth in terms of his progress in the sport. “Remember Little League? Wasn’t that fun?”

      “It sure was,” said Lucy, winking at Pam. Their sons hadn’t shown much talent for baseball, and they mostly remembered the games as opportunities for the boys to make humiliating mistakes. Andrea, however, had afforded everyone a great deal of amusement as a one-woman cheering section for Tim.

      “I always knew baseball would pay off for Tim,” continued Andrea. “And it has. You know quite a few scouts were interested in him last season, and we got a call from the athletic director at Maine Christian University this afternoon.” Andrea’s voice was rising and had become quite loud. “He got a full scholarship—tuition, room and board, even a little spending money. Isn’t that fantastic?”

      “Congratulations! That’s great news,” said Lydia, appearing in the doorway with the pot of coffee. “My little kindergarten grads are doing well. Did you hear about Richie?”

      “What about Richie?” asked Andrea, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

      Here we go, thought Lucy.

      “He’s going to Harvard. Early decision,” announced Lydia.

      “No! That’s great,” said Pam, hurrying off to congratulate Rachel. “Good news for a change! Local boy does good!”

      Andrea, of course, hadn’t taken the news quite as well. To her way of thinking, Tim was tops. She didn’t mind other kids being successful, she just didn’t like them to outdo Tim. And while Maine Christian University was undoubtedly a fine school, it couldn’t compare with Harvard.

      “My that coffee smells good,” said Andrea, with a little sniff. “I’d love a cup.”

      “You must be so proud of Tim,” said Lucy, steering the conversation back to Andrea’s favorite subject. “He was on the All-State team last year, wasn’t he?”

      “And he won the batting title last year and was voted MVP by his teammates,” recited Andrea, looking a little happier.

      “He was always a little firecracker,” said Lydia, who had long ago trained herself to remember only her students’ positive attributes.

      Confident she was leaving Andrea in good hands, Lucy left the group in the dining room and went into the living room to invite the women gathered there to take some refreshments.

      “There’s cake and coffee in the dining room—and I wouldn’t dilly-dally,” she said. “There’s a pretty hungry crowd in there.”

      “I’m so glad you did this, Lucy. It’s such a nice Christmas tradition,” said Rachel, who was leaning back in a wing chair with her feet propped on a footstool. “But I can sure understand why Sue thought it was time to take a break. Is she coming?”

      “I’ve been wondering the same thing,” said Lucy. “She’s supposed to, and she’s bringing her new assistant at the center, Tucker.”

      “Tucker’s wonderful,” said Steffie, rising to her feet and joining the general drift toward the dining room. “Will just adores her.”

      As they passed through the hallway the doorbell rang and Lucy stopped to open it, expecting to see an apologetic Sue standing on the other side. Instead, she saw Lee Cummings.

      “Just what I need,” she muttered to herself. “The woman scorned, the soon-to-be divorcée from hell.” She pasted a bright smile on her face. “Hi, Lee. I’m so glad you could make it.”

      “Me too, Lucy. For a while I didn’t think I was going to be able to come. I was waiting for

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