Windmills of the Gods

Monday morning she awoke with a headache. There had been a lot of champagne toasts the night before. She eased her way out of bed and went down to the kitchen, where she set about preparing breakfast for the children.

Beth, Mary’s twelve-year-old daughter, walked into the room carrying an armful of books.

Mary put a box of cereal on the table. “I bought a new cereal for you. You’re going to like it.”

Beth sat dowti at the kitchen table and studied the label on the cereal box. “I can’t eat this. You’re trying to kill me.”

“Don’t put any ideas in my head,”. her mother cautioned.

Tim, Mary’s ten-year-old, ran into the kitchen. He slid into a chair at the table and said, “I’ll have bacon and eggs.”

“Whatever happened to good morning?” Mary asked. “Good morning. I’ll have bacon and eggs. Can I go to the skating rink after school, Mom?”

“You’re to come right home and study. Mrs. Reynolds called me. You’re failing math. How do you think it looks for a college professor to have a son who’s failing math?”

“It looks okay. You don’t teach math.”

They talk about the terrible twos, Mary thought grimly. What about the terrible nines, tens, elevens, and twelves?

She had packed a lunch for each of them, but she was concerned about Beth, wtio was on some kind of crazy new diet. “Please, Beth, eat all of your lunch today.”

“If it has no artificial preservatives. I’m not going to let the greed of the food industry ruin my health.”

Whatever happened to the good old days of junk food? Mary wondered.

Tim plucked a loose paper from one of Beth’s notebooks. “Look at this!” he yelled. “‘Dear Beth, Let’s sit together during study period. I thought of you all day yesterday and-“$

“Give that back to me!” Beth screamed. “Thaes mine!”

“Hey! It’s signe. “Virgil.” I thought you were in love with Arnold.”

Beth snatched the note away from him. “What would you know about love? You’re a child.”

At that moment they heard the horn of the school bus outside. Tim and Beth started toward the door.

“Wait! You haven’t eaten your breakfasts,” Mary said. She followed them out into the hallway.

“No time, Mother. Got to go.”

“Bye, Mom.”

And they were gone.

Mary, feeling drained, looked up as Edward came down the stairs.

“Morning, darling,” he said.

“Sweetheart, would you do me a favor?”

“Sure, beautiful.” He gave her a kiss. “Anything.”

“want to sell the children.”

“Who’d buy them?”

“Strangers. They’ve reached the age where I can’t do anything right. Beth has become a health-food freak, and your son is turning into a world-class dunce.”

Edward said thoughtfully, “Maybe they’re not our kids.”

“I hope not. I’m making oatmeal for you.”

“Sorry, darling. No time. I’m due in surgery in half an hour.”

Mary looked at Edwaid and felt a glow. Even after all these years, she thought, he’s still the most attractive man I’ve ever known.

“I may decide to keep the kids, after all,” she said. “I like their father a lot.”

“To tell you the truth,” said Edward, “I’m rather fond of their, mother.” He took her in his arms.

MARY and Edward left the house together, bowing their heads against the relentless wind. Edward strapped himself into his Ford Granada and watched Mary as she got behind the wheel of the station wagon.

“Drive carefully, sweetheart,” Edward called.

“You too, darling.” She blew him a kiss, and the two cars drove away from the house, Edward heading toward the hospital and Mary toward the university.

Two men parked half a block from the Ashley house waited until the vehicles were out of sight. “Let’s go.”

They drove up to the house next door to the Ashleys’. The driver sat in the cilr while his companion walked up to the front door and rang -the bell. The door was opened by an attractive brunette in her middle thirties.

“Mrs. Douglas Schiller?”

“Yes?”

The man reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an identification card. “My name is Donald Zamlock. I’m with the Security Agency of the State Department. I want to ask you a few questions about your neighbor, Mrs. Ashley.”

She looked at him with concern. “Mary? Why would you be asking about her?”

“May I come in?”

“Yes.” Florence Schiller led him into the living room. “Would you like some coffee?”

“No, thanks. I’ll only take a few minutes.” He smiled reassuringly. “This is just a routine check. She’s not suspected of any wrongdoing.”

“I should hope not,” Florence Schiller said indignantly. “Mary Ashley is one of the nicest persons you’ll ever meet.” She added, “Have you met her?”

“No, ma’am. This visit is confidential, and I would appreciate it if you kept it that way. How long have you known Mrs. Ashley?”

“About thirteen years. Since the day she moved in next door.”

“Would you say that you know Mrs. Ashley well?”

“Of course I would. Mary’s my closest friend. What-“

“Mrs. Schiller, in your opinion is Mrs. Ashley an emotionally stable person?”

“Of course she is.”