Excerpt of Death in a Hot Flash by Jane Isenberg

Chapter One January 10, 1996

Dear Ma Bel,

I knew my son would have something to say when I wrote him
about my spring schedule. So did children's lit professor
Wendy O'Connor, friend and office mate. "What the hell are
you doing teaching in the Funeral Service Ed Program?
That's pretty kinky even for you, Bel." As she spoke,
Wendy was frantically ferreting through files, looking for
her bibliography on Beatrix Potter, which she needed to
take with her on sabbatical to England. In the flurry of
her search, she had scattered folders, papers, and books
allover her desk and the floor. I struggled to stifle my
inner neatnik's knee-jerk reaction to the evidence that
Wendy's whirlwind quest had made a shambles of our tiny
office in the River Edge Community College English
Department.

"Wanna trade places? I'll fly to the Lake District on
sabbatical tomorrow and do research on Beatrix and you can
stay here in Jersey City and teach the undertaker wanna-
bes. This is my last offer. Take it or leave it," I said,
not even looking up from the syllabus I was revising for
the upcoming semester. If I raised my head, Wendy might
notice the unbecoming shade of green that envy had tinted
my complexion. Besides, I didn't want to have to look at
the mess she had made.

"No thanks. But I really do want to know how you ended up
teaching in the FSE Program. You may be a hormonally
challenged postmenopausal flake, Bel, but let me remind
you that you once majored in English lit at Vassar. And
you wrote a damn good master's thesis on models for
matriarchy in Virginia Woolf. So how on earth did you wind
up as a matriarch yourself, teaching future undertakers
and embalmers? Did the dean ask you to do it? Suddenly,
Wendy waved a folder under my nose. "Eureka!" Her elfin
face was lit by a triumphant grin.

"No, it wasn't the dean this time." Even I could hear the
whine of resignation in my voice. "It was Vinny Vallone. I
let that silver-tongued Svengali wheedle me into co-
teaching with him."

"Okay. Now that I can almost understand," said Wendy,
bending to gather folders from the floor. "I've heard he
really is a spinmeister. Exactly how did he convince you?
Come on, Bel, this is your last chance to tell Wendy."

She was right. One of the qualities I most appreciate
about Wendy is her affinity for gossip. I was especially
going to miss our Sunday-moming walks at Liberty State
Park where, in the name of fitness, we would spend an hour
swapping stories about our colleagues and trashing the
ever entertaining RECC administration. "Okay. Okay. Let's
see, first he practically purred into my ear about how
much fun it would be for us to co-teach. An 'utter hoot'
was how he put it." And when that didn't get to me, he
tried flattery."

"Oh no. That would never work with you," cracked Wendy.
Her deadpan voice belied the smile that had nudged up the
comers of her mouth.

"Well, it was a long shot, but he was desperate," I fired
back. "Anyway, you know how Vinny loves really bad jokes
and puns. So he said that just the other day somebody had
told him I was such a gifted teacher that I could inspire
even a corpse to write well." I smirked.

Wendy put down the armful of books she had picked up from
the floor and held her nose.

Ignoring her gesture, I went on. "I must have looked
aghast, because then Vinny really cranked up the wheedle
and tried to bribe me."

Wendy was giggling now. "Let me guess. He offered you
food, right?"

"Damn, Wendy, you know me too well. But of course you're
right. That incorrigible man actually promised he'd whip
up gourmet lunches for me during all our planning
sessions. At his palazzo in Paulus Hook, no less. Where
would he ever get the idea that I can be bought for the
price of a good feed?"

"So you sold yourself for a meal and a house tour, Bel? Is
that what you're telling me?" Wendy prodded. I was
surprised when she added, "Actually, I'd love to see that
house. Paulus Hook's such a great old neighborhood too,
full of those to-die-for historic homes. I have a friend
living there who says Vinny really put a fortune into his
renovation."

"He's very pumped about it, that's for sure. But no, I
didn't 'sell myself for a meal and a house tour,' " I
replied rather primly. "I hate to disappoint you, but I
have my professional principles, my scholarly integrity
And that's exactly what he appealed to next."

"I give up. Tell me what he said already." Wendy had stood
up and was stuffing several books and the bibliography
into her knapsack.