... and Baby Makes Two by Judy Sheehan Page B

handle it.
    â€œJane works at Argenti. Right in the thick of things,” said Howard.
    â€œNo kidding. I work in the same building. I'm with Metro House.”
    â€œNo kidding.” Jane was trying to think scintillating thoughts, but the only thing that played in her head was “Oh, my God.”
    She managed to come out with “I'll get the napkins,” and she headed out to the yard. The kids were having their burgers and hot dogs now, and her brothers had started singing. This mesmerized the kids and kept them in their seats long enough to finish a decent meal. The brothers were harmonizing on Betty's favorite song, “How High the Moon.” Betty emerged from the kitchen, beaming with delight at her boys. She settled into a lawn chair. Their voices were similar, the harmonies perfect. Jane hugged the napkins and listened.
    â€œDo you sing too?” asked Peter.
    â€œYes. I mean, I can.”
    â€œWhy don't you do the next number? Do you take requests?”
    Singing was the boys’ province. Jane didn't sing at family functions. Come to think of it, Jane hadn't sung in a long time. She had no reason to.
    â€œNo, I don't want to crowd the boys. It's their show.”
    Peter turned out to be the fine fellow that Howard had claimed he was. A research analyst, very successful. Loved golf, which accounted for his tan and for the not-fake highlights in his sandy hair. She tried not to stare, but she needed to, if she was going to capture any kind of coherent memory of him in high school.
    â€œYou don't remember me, do you?” he asked.
    â€œOf course I do. You're Peter. Peter Mandrell.”
    â€œMandell.”
    â€œI suck.”
    â€œBurgers are ready! Grown-ups! Come and get 'em!”
Dylan was shouting while he herded the grown-ups over to the table, as if he were a sheepdog. That done, he rallied the children for a game of tag. Grown-up dinner started with an awkward silence. Jane wished she were hungry.
    â€œDid Peter tell you that he used to live in California?” Betty asked very energetically.
    Peter smiled and said, “I used to live in California. Came back after my dad had a stroke. He's doing okay but I just didn't like being so far away.”
    â€œGood children look after their parents. Peter's a good son.”
    â€œExcept that I broke that trick window. That house may be charming, but it's falling down like a pup tent. I could spend the next two years trying to make all those repairs.”
    Aha! Jane found a conversational opening: fixer-uppers. She questioned him about his planned renovations. She offered advice based on her own experience renovating her apartment in Manhattan. Peter wanted to know where this wonderful space was located. As they narrowed down to her exact address, he laughed.
    â€œI don't believe it. I live half a block away from you.”
    â€œI don't believe it.”
    Peter lived in the high-rise doorman building with the potted plants by the door, half a block away from Jane's prewar, walk-up, fixed-up apartment.
    â€œMom, did you know that?”
    Betty shook her head and turned to Howard. “It's a sign,” she whispered loudly enough for all to hear.
    â€œPeter Mandell!” Jane shouted. The group stared and waited.
    â€œPresent.”
    â€œI remember you now. You played basketball. You were a total hotshot.”
    â€œI played basketball. With hotshot fantasies. And I'm afraid I don't remember what sports you played.”
    â€œChess. And field hockey. And I ran the drama club. I directed
Our Town
the year that your team lost a big game. What was it, Penn-wood High?”
    â€œWe lost a lot of games. We weren't a great team.”
    Betty smiled. This looked like success, right until Jane said, “You ruined my show”
    â€œNo way. I never did anything.”
    â€œYou shaved your head.”
    Peter blushed as he remembered it. The team had vowed that they would beat Pennwood High, or they