Antiques Disposal by Barbara Allan Page B

pregnancy never stopped me. Why, it was some of the best—”
    â€œStop! La la la la la la! Don’t want to hear it! Do not want to hear it!” Much less have any images form in my mind... .
    â€œVery well, dear. I just wanted to show that I was willing to tear down the walls of my own privacy, in order to enlighten you.”
    â€œWell, I’m plenty enlightened already, thanks. Keep your walls up and untorn.”
    â€œFine.”
    We fell silent again.
    The fog began to clear; after a while, I risked a glance at Mother. “I am sorry about Big Jim Bob.”
    Staring out her side window now that looming icebergs were no longer a threat, she sighed. “I am, too. He was such a dear man. I’ll cry about him later. In my own veil of privacy.”
    Mother did have a remarkable ability to compartmentalize, to handle a crisis first, then deal with emotions later. To some, her lack of empathy made her seem cold. I knew better.
    But she had touched on what was bothering me about my relationship with Tony: our love, if that was what it was, had been frozen in the early stage of our courtship, when everything was exciting and heady and just on the brink of intimacy. Swell of music here. Had it been allowed to progress, we might well have discovered we weren’t meant for each other, and our love could have withered and died. Music down.
    But with Tony suddenly yanked from my life, I somehow couldn’t seem to move on... .
    I pulled into our driveway, Peggy Sue nosing in behind. The house was dark—which of course wouldn’t bother blind little Sushi—but seemed unsettling in the aftermath of a murder discovery.
    Inside, I switched on the entry light, then the ceiling lights in the living room, and there was Sushi, sitting patiently on the Oriental rug, waiting. And clutching by one corner with her sharp little teeth ...
    . . . that valuable Superman drawing.
    Mother and I froze, Peggy Sue bumping into us. Still tailgating.
    I whispered to Mother, “She’s upset we’ve been gone so long.”
    â€œYes,” Mother whispered back. “How did the little devil know that particular item was the one we cared about most?”
    â€œMust have our scent all over it ... plus she heard us oohing and aahing. Don’t anybody move .”
    â€œWhat’s going on?” Sis demanded.
    â€œShhhh ...” I ordered.
    I moved forward, slowly. “Sushi, honey, be a good girl. Let it go.”
    Soosh backed up with her prize.
    â€œI know what will do the trick!” Mother said, then rushed into the kitchen.
    In a moment came the sound of a potato chip bag rustling.
    But Sushi remained still, spooky white eyes unblinking. If her little head had done a complete Exorcist turn on her little neck, I wouldn’t have been a bit surprised.
    â€œTry cookies,” I hollered.
    â€œWe’re out of cookies,” Mother hollered back.
    â€œHow about that leftover meat loaf?” To Sushi I said, “I double-dog dare you to ignore that.”
    Our eyes were locked in a battle of wills. And I knew I was very likely outmatched... .
    Mother returned with a container of yesterday’s dinner, which she placed in front of Sushi.
    The little dog’s nose twitched, but the drawing remained clutched in her teeth.
    I said, “Mother, she doesn’t want the meat loaf, so why don’t we have it?”
    â€œAh! Capital idea, dear!”
    And I got down on my hands and knees in front of the bowl, pretending to eat.
    Mother followed suit.
    Two adult women, huddled around a Tupperware bowl like a couple of hounds at a doggie dish. Dignity be damned—a valuable collectible was at stake.
    Peggy Sue, still in the entryway, muttered, “Oh, for pity’s sake. You’re worse than that silly animal. I’m going upstairs.”
    I could see Sushi weakening, jaw going slack, then, finally. . . the drawing fluttered to the floor.
    Whereby, Mother snatched