On my first night home in Stockton, I was reading the newspaper after dinner when the phone rang.

"I'll get it!" Calla shouted.

"Of course you will," Elliot said, chuckling. "It might be Jeremy."

"Hello, Calla Waters speaking," Calla said in a breathy voice. "Oh. Hi, Marian...yeah, she's right here. GRANDMA, PHONE!"

Mother shook her head as she went into the dining room to talk to Marian Englebretson about...well, I don't exactly know what they were talking about.

"Did you see anyone you knew at the conference?" Dad asked.

"I did," I said. "An old friend. From Korea."

As soon as I said it, I knew I shouldn't have. My family is notorious for not letting anybody have secrets.

Dad looked about ready to fire off a round of questions when Calla flopped into a chair. "It wasn't Jeremy," she said.

"Who is Jeremy?" I asked.

"Oh, Mom, he's so sweet," Calla said. "We worked together in biology."

"Wonderful. You can have frog legs at your wedding," said Elliot. "You and Jeremy would have lovingly dissected them together..."

"Uncle Elliot!" cried Calla. She tossed a couch pillow at him.

"Elliot," Michelle said, tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear, "leave the poor child alone."

"I am not a poor child!" Calla said. "Although I could use some extra money."

"The Ericksons are selling their house," I said, looking up from the paper.

"Really?" Dad asked. He peered at the paper over my shoulder. "They've lived there for twenty years."

I flipped to the "Stockton Notes" section of the paper and began to read. " 'John and Myrtle Lundin had dinner with the Marge and Alvin Erickson'--no, and who cares? 'Marlys Larson and Helga Larsen visited the Milbrook Home for the Aged', no, that's not it...found it. 'After a long debate period, Alvin and I have decided that we're going to sell our home and move into Milbrook. It'll be much closer to the clinic for Alvin's treatments. We'll certainly miss Stockton and all you wonderful citizens that make it such a great place. Often, we're reminded of the little town on television called Mayberry'...yadda yadda yadda."

"Well," my father said. "They'll be missed."

"How's Marge going to keep writing the Notes?" Calla asked. "Everyone around here's too cheap to drive to Milbrook."

"Calla," Dad said.

"Well, they are! Remember when they didn't even want to drive down to the cafe for the Senior Monthly Meetings? They wanted to save gas."

Mother strode back into the living room. "Jaclyn, Marian wants you to sing the solo in Amazing Grace next Sunday."

"You didn't tell her I would!" I said.

"Jaclyn." Mother looked at me strangely. "If you don't take the solo, Diane Barthlow will, and you know she strains to hit anything above a B." She clucked her tounge. "You WILL sing."

"All right, all right, all right." I stood up. "I'm going to go to bed."

XXX

That night, I was snoring (I know this, because Calla once taped me while I was sleeping) when my darling daughter flipped on the light.

"Cawhumhaa," I moaned.

"Mom," said Calla, who seemed amazingly wide-awake. "I was just reading the paper."

"WHY did you wake me up at three-thirty A.M. to tell me THAT?"

"Because," she said, "the Erickson's house is on the market. Right now. And it's cheap."

"It shouldbe. It's a stupid stinking shack that's going to fall apart any minute."

"No it's not! I've been in there and it's really cool. See, you come in and then there's the living room, and there's a kitchen with a bar and-"

I sat up. "Get to the point, please. Preferably in the next five seconds."

"You can afford the house," said Calla. "I know you've wanted to get out of here for a really long time. This is the chance."She handed the real estate section to me.

The price of the house wasn't bad.

Actually it was very good.

And suddenly, I had a new dilemna to deal with.