"You're wrong, Sadie,” Nan said.

"If you're desperate, of course you think I'm wrong. Ask yourself why most of Paul's clients are over the age of seventy."

"Because he specializes in life insurance, investments, and endowment policies,” Nan said.

"That's right. And why does he cater to them? Because they're old and vulnerable.” Sadie joined Nan at the sink. “Paul came to the cabin last year and tried to sweet talk Jane and me into a policy. Jane was ready to write him a check right there on the spot, but I told her it would be over my dead body."

"What he had to offer seemed like a good deal,” Jane said. “And besides, there's nothing wrong with life insurance."

"It's not a good idea if we can't afford the payments. Paul's sales pitch consisted mostly of sweet talk and compliments. You were ready to spread your legs for the man."

"I was not,” Jane gasped. “You're jealous because he spent most of his time talking to me rather than you."

"My point exactly. You were literally drooling and he knew he had you wrapped around the axle."

"I was not drooling. I was interested in what he had to say."

"Stop it,” Nan said. “Neither of you know the real Paul. At least we've got the option of staying in Pinecone Landing if I accept his proposal."

Nan 's hand flew to her mouth. “Oh please forgive me. I was so worried about my own future I forgot about the two of you. Have you figured out what you'll do if you lose the lawsuit?"

11

Sadie eyed the clock as she pulled the final plate from the dish drainer. The previous evening's confrontation with Nan had drained her energy. The relentless humidity didn't help, either. She dabbed the towel across the floral design before placing the plate in the cabinet.

Mr. Bakke sat spread-eagled on the davenport attempting to benefit from a cross breeze filtering through the screen door. He had pushed his black socks down around his ankles so his white legs protruded like Popsicle sticks from below his Bermuda shorts. “I sure hope this storm brings relief. I don't have the gumption to get off the sofa.” He fanned the newspaper in front of his face.

"I hear you,” Sadie said. “I thought I'd feel cooler wearing a thong, but it doesn't seem to help."

"You mean a thong as in underwear?” Jane said.

"Do you see any thongs on my feet?"

Jane glanced at Sadie's feet before contorting her face in disgust. “Since when did you start wearing a thong?"

"Since I ordered one from the catalog. It came a few days ago."

"That's repulsive. A woman your age wearing a thong?” The furrows in Jane's forehead deepened. She lifted Sadie's purple miniskirt and took a peek. “Don't those sequins irritate your skin?"

"No. They match the pink in my shirt. It's called Pink Passion. Color coordination is all the rage. It also matches Belly's neckerchief.” Sadie patted her heavily-gelled, pink-spiked hairdo and said, “Big Leon created this color to coordinate with my outfit."

"You look like a wad of bubblegum.” Jane took three steps back toward the kitchen sink. “That's a waste of money. Who'd want to see your old butt in one of those things?"

"I'm sure they'd rather look at my butt than at your flabby ass in those panties you pull all the way up to your boobs. Humongous panties, by the way."

Mr. Bakke quietly raised the newspaper to shield his face.

Sadie reached for her keys. “I'm late picking up the crossers. When I get back, we'll look at my Victoria Secret catalog."

"No we won't,” Jane said. “And let's hope you come back minus a crosser. Maybe one will have found someone on the brink."

"I hope so, too. Preferably Rodney. He frightens the others to the point where they can't concentrate on their declarations.” Sadie bent and tugged at the rug, sliding Belly away from the door. He raised his head in acknowledgement as his stomach rose and fell with each pant. Patting Belly's head, Sadie said, “Rodney's as lazy as Belly. I wouldn't put it past him to crawl into one of the beds at the nursing home. He probably sleeps until it's time for me to pick him up."

Belly laid his head back on the rug, took a deep breath, and burped.

"I wish I could do that. I'd sure feel better.” Sadie rubbed her stomach and looked at Mr. Bakke. “I think Jane's trying to kill us with her cooking.” Sadie signaled she was heading out to pick up the crossers and let the screen door slam behind her

Mr. Bakke frowned at Jane over the top of the newspaper. “What exactly was it you served tonight for supper?"

"That recipe I showed you from the Taste of Home magazine."

"I don't remember the photo looking like that,” he said. “What was all that blue stuff in it?"

"I added a few of my own ideas,” Jane said.

"I'm glad to hear that. I'd hate to think there was a misprint."

"Nobody's forcing you to eat here, you know. If you don't like my cooking, you can eat at the lodge. Or better yet, if you're so darn fussy you can do you own cooking.” Jane hung the kitchen towel inside the cabinet door before slamming it sharply.

Mr. Bakke patted the cushion. “Come and sit by me. You know I love your cooking."

Belly moved from the comfort of the rug and resituated himself in front of the screen door. His left rear paw scratched haphazardly at the pink neckerchief. As footsteps drew closer to the cabin, his tail thumped against the screen.

Aanders rapped his knuckles against the wood frame and looked through the screen door. “Sadie?” Seeing Jane approach, he asked, “Is Sadie here?"

She'll be back in about twenty minutes. Come in. I baked some cookies this afternoon.” Before Mr. Bakke could comment, Jane held up a finger in warning. “I followed the recipe exactly the way it was written."

"How are you doing, son?” Mr. Bakke folded the newspaper and looked up at Aanders.

Aanders stared at a peanut he pulled from the peanut butter cookie before breaking it in half with his front teeth. “I'm okay."

"You sure?"

"Yah.” He drained the glass of milk Jane set in front of him and sought permission to take a second cookie.

The pair sat on the sofa and watched the last fifteen minutes of Wheel of Fortune. As each new letter was exposed, they shouted out their guesses. When the final commercial played across the screen, Mr. Bakke said, “If you need to talk, you know where to find me."

Nodding to acknowledge Mr. Bakke, Aanders crouched and let Belly lick the traces of cookie from his fingers. “I need to talk to Sadie."

"Here I am,” Sadie sang out as she crossed the porch and opened the door. “I just got back from giving our guests a ride."

"I know,” Aanders said with a smile.

"Want a cookie, Aanders?” Sadie handed the cookie platter to Aanders.

"No thanks. I already had a couple."

The van's occupants filed in behind Sadie and sat on the remaining vacant chairs. Belly placed his large head on Theo's leg and snorted a welcome.

"Keep your worthless canine on the other side of the room,” Theo grumbled. “He's got drool hanging out of his mouth again. Can't you put that creature outside?"

"He's not my dog,” Sadie said.

"Belly doesn't like to be outside when Sadie's in the cabin,” Aanders said.

"I know that, dear,” Jane said. “I didn't ask you to put him out."

"Theo wants me to put him out,” Sadie explained. She turned and stared at Aanders.

Biting back at her sister, Jane said, “Well how am I supposed to know that? You didn't tell me they were back."

"What do you think I went to the nursing home for?” Sadie said. “To pick out a room for you?"

"To pick up the crossers,” Aanders said.

Nodding sharply at Aanders’ reply, Sadie's breath caught in her throat. She whispered, “What did you say?"

"I said you went to the nursing home to pick up the crossers."