We spend the rest of the afternoon cleaning and scrubbing, our energy renewed due to Ruby’s strong coffee; and of course, all that adventure stuff helps too. Johnny brought over some old disco tapes, so the boathouse is thumping to the rhythms of Donna Summer belting out “MacArthur Park.” There’s nothing like good disco to clean up an old boathouse

All the drapes are out on the deck, hanging along the banisters to get some fresh air. They’re fifties’ floral prints with tiger lilies and leaves as big as my head. Ruby and I go through the shipping room and office, dusting, sweeping, shaking rugs and mopping floors. Since the kitchen is open into the living room, we can all chat in between Howard’s pounding.

“The shutters I found in the barn will make great shelves,” Howard says, nails in his mouth. “Should work perfect for the bolts of fabric. Then I’ll start on the wiring for the sewing machines. I’ll bring the electricity up from the furnace room,” he adds, heading down the newly discovered spiral staircase. “This is fantastic—there are enough circuits down here to light the island!” His voice echoes up, loud as all get out.

“Is there anything he can’t do?” Ruby asks Johnny from the stool she’s standing on while wiping the top of the mint green fridge.

“Cook. He is a disaster in the kitchen,” Johnny comments, shoving tables around. “He can burn and melt.”

Later, the four of us are sitting out on the balcony with our feet up, enjoying the view of the lake. The boathouse is all set to go. We have all day tomorrow to shore up any details. Since we’re supplying lunch for the crew, we’re hoping it will evolve into a potluck concept. This is the Midwest, after all. Ruby likes to cook, but I don’t want to push it.

“The sound of the waves is the best tension reliever.” I sigh. “That and a nice smoke.”

“I thought you two were quitting.” Johnny bats my smoke ring away. “It’s really a disgusting habit, you know.”

“I’m hoping to be just too darn busy to think about it,” Ruby says. “You’re completely right; it’s a disgusting habit.”

“Expensive as hell too,” I add. “Do we dare make this a nonsmoking workplace?”

“Seems to me,” Howard says, “it’s against Wisconsin law…some law, anyway…to smoke in a workplace. Only in designated areas. Something like that.”

“This could be the push we need,” I say, and Ruby nods. “Could you look into it on your computer, Howard?”

“Our pleasure,” Howard and Johnny say at the same time, then laugh.

“I think we’re going to head on home and clean up.” Howard yawns. “I need to get out of these filthy clothes and maybe even take a nap.” He grins slyly at Johnny.

“Shall we gather for dinner?” Johnny asks as they get up to go. “We also need to do some sampling of Toad Tea.”

“Let’s make it a couple of hours from now,” Ruby says. “I’m sure there’s something in the freezer that needs to be eaten.”

“Thanks for all your hard work today and look—it’s a factory!” I announce as we walk back into the living-room-turned-sewing-room. “Who wouldn’t want to work here?”

“Hello? Ruby? Eve? Hello?” A voice is coming from the closet. We all look at one another.

“You weren’t kidding…Must be someone up at the cottage,” Ruby says. “Eve…you take the tunnel and I’ll dash up the hill.”

“You want us to hang around?” Howard asks.

“Heavens no; scoot on home.” Ruby waves her hand, then she’s off, out the door, heading up the hill.

“Hello? Is anyone here? It’s Marsha from Rice Lake.” The boys follow Ruby out the door, heading toward their cabin.

Pulling the French doors closed and scooping up Rocky, I head down the spiral stairs.

“Hi there,” Marsha says from the top of the basement steps.

“How are you? I didn’t expect to see you this soon.” I come up the basement stairs and set Rocky on a stool.

“I am doing wonderfully,” Marsha gushes as Ruby comes in the back door. “Hello Ruby. What a lovely cabin. I know you didn’t expect me for a week or two, but I just got to thinking…what am I waiting for?” She walks into the living room and oohs and ahs.

“Where are you staying, darling?” Ruby asks while rooting around in a drawer.

“In an adorable little cottage in La Pointe.” Marsha sits down next to Rocky. “It’s the carriage house of a much larger main house. I just love it here. I’ve already met a few of the locals.”

“What did you decide to do with your house in Rice Lake?” I ask, setting a mug of coffee in front of her.

“I cleaned it from top to bottom—threw out a lifetime of junk—loaded up my Jeep and headed here. I’m not going to sell it. It’s long paid for and maybe someday I’ll want to move back, or maybe my daughter might want it.” She blows on her coffee and turns the mug around to look at the front of it.

“I brought my entire cat-mug collection,” I say apologetically. “Ruby and I need to clean up; then we’re having some friends over for dinner and—”

“You’re more than welcome to join us,” Ruby breaks in. “And we can give you a proper tour.”

“Thank you so much, but I still have some unpacking to do and I don’t want to intrude on your plans.”

“Don’t be silly,” I say. “We’re going to be working together come Monday anyway. That is, if you’re game?”

“I am so ready to do something other than asking, ‘And what’ll it be today?’ What’s the rush though?”

“There’s the Bayfield Apple Festival in October and we’ve rented a booth for our apron collection,” Ruby informs from the freezer. “Oh shoot, I thought I had a chicken in here.”

“I’ve been going to it for years; lots and lots of people. Apron collection?” Marsha asks, raising an exceptionally arched brow.

“What do you think?” I ask. “Easy to make…We found all this wild fabric at Wal-Mart and who doesn’t need a cool, snappy…handmade apron?”

“I think it’s…well, I’m not sure,” Marsha says. “I do hate the ones you find now. Not much to look at and certainly nothing like the fancy ones my mother wore.”

“Kiss the cook,” Ruby and I say together.

One Christmas years ago, I got five ‘kiss-the-cook’ aprons from clients. Ruby and I found them tucked away in a corner of my apartment when we were packing me up and had a good laugh.

“We’re going to give it a shot,” I say. “The festival will be sort of a test market.”

“I have a feeling that whatever you two put your minds to—it works,” Marsha says. “I’m going to pass on your dinner invitation. Thanks, though. You know, I never figured I’d consider leaving Rice Lake. ’Course I kept the house in case I change my mind, but I wonder what would have become of me if I’d never met you two.”

“Who’s to say? We’re glad you’re here.” I give her shoulder a little squish. “Though I doubt there’s much social life here in the winters. Do you drink, Marsha?”

“A little.”

“You’ll be fine,” I say, and we wave her out the door. Ruby shakes her head.

“There you are,” Ruby says. “That old scarf suits you. To think I used to put my hair up in rollers every day and covered them up in that.”

“It dresses up this top I’ve had forever.” I lift a lid off one of the many pots on the stove and have a whiff. “What can I do for you, oh, mistress of the cooking cauldron?”

“I need you to stir a few things. But first, how about getting a bottle of Toad Tea up from the basement. The boys left a few in the wine closet.”

“Sure.” I pull open the basement door and turn on the light. “We have to remember not to go disappearing into the closet when we’re all down at the boathouse.” I head downstairs with Rocky in the lead.

While opening the metal door to the wine closet (which also leads to the tunnel), I hear Rocky growl and hiss off in a corner. Switching on the light inside, I call him a few times: no Rocky, no sound. I find the bottles and am turning to leave when he flies right between my legs and up the stairs, in a gray flash.

“No problem buster; I’ll get the lights.” Pushing the door shut with my rear, I head upstairs.

Ruby yells, “Eve! Eve come quick!”

I quickly scuttle back into the kitchen. Ruby is on top of a stool and Rocky’s looking up at her with curiosity, his tail twitching like crazy.

“What the hell?” I ask, trying to catch my breath. “Not two seconds ago he was in the basement and…” I follow Ruby’s pointing spoon to the floor, next to the stove. Putting the bottles down, I cautiously peer around the corner of the stump table.

“Oh my God. It’s huge. Rats? We have rats?” I ask with disgust. “My God—let’s open a zoo. This is getting old.”

“I believe…now that I’m in a better viewing position of course, our new friend is no longer of this plane,” Ruby says quietly. She squats down to have a closer look—but not too close.

“You mean the little fucker’s dead?”

“Well put.”

Using long vegetable tongs and wearing oven mitts—on both hands—I carefully approach the victim. After the bat coming back to life, I’m not taking any chances here. Ruby is two inches behind me. I nudge the creature a smidgen, to make sure it’s really dead. Nothing. I lift it very slowly, using both hands since the damn thing is heavy. Deadweight, you know.

“A squirrel…for God’s sake. Look…a tail was tucked underneath.” I turn to Ruby, showing her the evidence, tail and all. It sways in my shaky tongs.

“Poor darling.” Ruby takes a closer look. “You know…I could be mistaken, but I think its bloody eye moved!” She takes careful steps backward toward the sink.

Then the damn thing starts to squirm. Here I am in the kitchen with this undulating rabid-filled furball. Suddenly it makes a horrible squawking sound! Rocky, of course, joins in, meowing like a banshee.

I’m yelling at Ruby to open the “God-damned” back door while she’s shouting to “Stay calm!” (Right.) Finally we manage to get it out of the kitchen before it leaps off my trusty tongs, landing on all four feet, claws making a scratching sound on the porch chair cushion. I make a mental note to never sit there—gross.

Head shaking, the creature looks around. Ruby and I, shoulder to shoulder, step backward into the kitchen. We don’t want to stick around and welcome it back to the food chain. ’Course, I have no idea what in the world would consider a squirrel a treat. I slam the door shut and lock it. We push aside the lace curtain, trying to get a look—the chair’s empty. We turn to glare at Rocky—gone.

“Knock knock,” Howard announces as he and Johnny come into the kitchen. “You must have unknowingly let a squirrel into the porch, but he’s free now. Hey, what smells so good?”

They’re dressed in baggy jeans and flannel shirts. A lock of Howard’s silver hair falls into his eyes; Johnny reaches up to move it aside.

“You’re smelling the beautiful loaf of basil bread Ruby’s baking in the oven,” I say, rinsing a blue porcelain colander overflowing with steamy pasta. “Have a seat. We’ll tell you about our little visitor. The latest, I should say.”

“I am quite sure, not the last,” Ruby adds,

“I’ve come to the conclusion that Rocky only stuns his furry playmates, leaving the actual killing decisions to us,” I say after filling in the boys on the details of our latest animal adventure.

“He does bring us mice that are no longer alive,” Ruby comments. “At least I think they’re dead. I should hope they’re dead.”

“Many critters freeze when in danger,” Johnny says. “Maybe the same goes for mice.”

“Well that means I’ve drowned quite a few in the toilet. I really don’t feel any regret at all.” I hand Howard cat-faced placemats and paper napkins with cheery pumpkins and point to the stump table. Ruby has a drawer filled with packages of paper napkins printed with every holiday design and color combination. When we’ve used them all up, we’re switching to cloth napkins. Save the trees!

“It’s part of living up here.” Johnny gives Rocky’s belly a good rub. “You should be forewarned that when winter sets in…more little heart attacks might be assisted by our bud here, Rocky the Man.”

“Hard to imagine such a ‘nice little guy’ is also a cold-hearted killer.” I glare at Rocky.

“Oh, it’s not like he’s walking around thinking murderous thoughts,” Ruby says protectively. I smile. “It’s instinctual—he’s no idea what to do once he’s got them though.”

“We could stockpile a bunch, make mice potpie,” I suggest to a group response of “gross,” “disgusting” and “you are so sick.” Which is true.

“Well…shall we eat?” Ruby asks. We look at each other. “In a minute then.”

“I know,” I say. “Since I just crushed our appetites, how about if we give the tea a taste?”

“Lovely idea, darling.” Ruby puts the platter of spinach pasta into the oven to keep warm. “Howard love, would you get down some glasses?”

“My pleasure,” he replies.

“Now…we have no idea if this is drinkable.” I attempt to open one of the bottles, then hand it to Johnny. “Make yourself useful—pull!”

Johnny tugs a bit and the cork breaks off. “Damn—sorry.” He hands the bottle and broken-off bit back to me.

“I’m far more experienced with twist-offs.” I set to work trying to hook the broken-off piece and get to the bootleg. “Got it!” I show the half-cork on the end of the opener.

Ruby smells it, scrunching her nose. “My word—strong.”

“Pour!” I pass the bottle to Howard, who hands out amber-filled highballs all around.

We look at one another for sipping cues. I pour big glasses of water since I’m sure we’re going to need a chaser.

“I say”—Ruby raises her highball—“to Toad Tea!”

We clink our glasses and take cautious sips. Everyone reaches for water. Johnny gasps. Ruby’s face turns scarlet. Howard tips his glass and finishes every drop. Me, I follow Howard’s lead and empty my glass. The fire starts in my belly and travels everywhere real quick. There must be smoke shooting from my ears.

“Mmmmm,” I say with tears running down my cheeks.

“You drank the whole lot?” Ruby asks, her voice rising in disbelief.

“Yup.” Howard decants more into his glass.

“Jesus.” Johnny gasps, chokes, then gulps down his glass of water followed by Howard’s.

“Well,” Ruby says. “Perhaps now we can have dinner, but let’s have some of Ed’s wine. I think that this”—she points—“should be mixed with a great deal of—”

“Mix,” we all reply.

While Howard and Ruby are washing the dishes after our feast, Johnny and I take a stroll down the hall, finally cozying up in the library. A cool breeze is slipping in the open windows and moonlight illuminates the toad-window, filling the hall with a silvery green.

“This is a great room to sneak off to and do some serious thinking,” Johnny says. “I know that Ed used to practically live in here.”

“I wish I could have known him better.” I sit down in one of the wingback chairs facing the potbellied stove.

“He was very…intellectual,” Johnny says. “But in a subtle way. He just knew things, but didn’t make you feel bad if you didn’t. Ruby and Ed mostly kept to themselves.”

“I know he was crazy about his Ruby.” I get up and light the gas fire with a long wooden match, then close the door. “She misses him.”

“He looked at her with such…love,” Johnny says real dreamy-like. “They were always hand in hand or arm in arm.”

“How sweet. It sucks though, him dying and all.”

“How about you, Eve? Anyone ever hold your hand?”

“Oh, I really…no, I mean…Growing up, I was short, overweight. A redheaded only child with parents who were much older than anyone else’s. I guess you could say I had…issues.”

“Thank God you still have the red hair and I’m afraid you are short, but I’ll tell you what, you’re very beautiful. And I think it’s just a matter of time—okay, maybe a long time—before we, as a culture, realize that beauty isn’t just about high cheekbones and perky breasts.” He reaches over and we clink glasses.

“Thank you. You’re good for a girl’s ego, but what the hell’s wrong with my cheekbones?”

“Oh…I didn’t mean…”

“I’m kidding.” I’ve never liked talking too much about myself, so humor usually takes the spotlight off me. Usually.

“What else Eve?” Johnny prods gently. “That Toad Tea has made me brave…. You seem to have a something in your eyes, I’m not sure what. Something. I don’t mean to pry, but…I was a hairstylist too, you know.” We laugh. A good hairstylist works on what’s inside the head as well as what’s on top of it.

“I made some hormonally driven, stupid choices and ended up pregnant,” I say quickly. I can’t believe I’m sharing this. But along with all the other changes in my life, it’s high time to open up a little. I need to, and you know what? It doesn’t hurt a bit.

There are some things that I’ve never shared with anyone, and I sometimes wonder if that makes those experiences less or more real. Like how you feel when nature hands you a beautiful deer to admire or what a certain smell reminds you of. It’s sometimes just you and that thought, and off you go in your head to that place that’s only yours. Does everyone dash around through thoughts in the middle of a meaningful conversation?

“Abortion?”

“Adoption.” Do I dare look for her again?

“How long ago? If you don’t mind me…”

“I was seventeen….” I take a sip for strength. “My parents drove me to a convent and picked me up six months later when it was…after she was born.” A single tear sneaks down my cheek, but Johnny doesn’t see.

“Damn,” he says, and we’re quiet for a moment and that calms the air. “You try and find her or…?”

“A while ago I did, but never heard a word back.” I want to not talk about it anymore.

“We could help. If you ever decide to…you know…look for her again.”

“Thanks.” I really want to change the subject to, say, fly fishing or flatulence issues. How about menopause? I suppose that’s on the way. One more thing I’ll never be able to ask my mother about.

“Thank you,” Johnny says before I say something really ridiculous. “Takes guts to share something so personal like that…. I’m flattered.”

“I never thought of it that way,” I say. “How about you, Johnny? What is it that’s behind your eyes? There’s something sad there.”

“Oh…well…that’s pretty easy. AIDS. It cleared out—gutted—wiped out—my entire circle of friends. Every last one of them. I’m forty-eight and there was a time when Howard and I were going to more funerals than dinner parties. It’s this haunting guilt.”

“I’m so sorry.” I look over at him. “Guilt?”

“Because they got it and we didn’t and they’re dead and gone. I know guilt. I’m Catholic.” He tries to laugh, but it doesn’t come out right.

“I don’t know what to…”

“Knock knock.” Howard peeks into the library. I look over to Johnny; he smiles and gives me a knowing nod.

“Come in; join the circle,” I offer. Howard drags a chair over. “What did you do with Ruby?”

“She’s fiddling in the kitchen still.” Howard sits down next to Johnny. “Hard to keep up with that woman. And bossy?”

“Here you all are.” Ruby enters the library, carrying Rocky and a half-filled wineglass. “This is so cozy and if you’re talking about Eve…she is bossy.”

“Come have a seat and put your feet up,” I say. She thumps into a chair with a big sigh. “I can’t budge.”