“You were engaged three times?” Jake started to laugh. “What made them leave?”

“They didn’t. I did.” Kate tried to look detached and failed miserably. “I couldn’t bring myself to go through with it.”

“I still don’t get why you came down here. Why didn’t you just go down to a nice big investment-banking firm and hang around the men’s room until somebody who looked good came out?”

“Fine, laugh at me,” Kate said. “At least I’m doing something about my empty life instead of mowing lawns and hiding out on lakes.”

“I don’t mow the lawns,” Jake said. “I supervise other people mowing lawns. It’s a management-level position. Also I own half of the resort, but the investment isn’t liquid so you’re not interested.”

“I don’t care if it’s vapor. I’ll never be interested.” Kate glared at him. “I can’t believe I’m listening to this.”

“Also, don’t look now, but you’re hiding out on this lake, too, kiddo. We are both, so to speak, in the same boat.”

“Yes, but this afternoon, I will be pursuing my plan while you go rot in the azaleas.”

“We don’t have azaleas,” Jake said. “What are you doing this afternoon?”

“Shopping in town with Donald Prescott, who is a stockbroker and possibly the man of my dreams,” Kate said.

“No, he’s not,” Jake said.

“Excuse me,” Kate said, “but I will determine my own dreams. You, by the way, are not in them.”

“He’s not a stockbroker,” Jake said. “You really can pick them.”

“He says he’s a stockbroker,” Kate said.

Jake looked at her sadly. “Do not believe everything men tell you, dummy,” he said. “He’s a scout for Eastern Hotels. He’s here to hire Valerie away from Will.”

Kate blinked. “What’s Will doing about it?”

“Praying that he hurries up,” Jake said.

“Aren’t they engaged?”

Jake snorted. “Who told you that fairy tale?”

“Valerie.”

Jake closed his eyes. “Well, I warned him.”

“What?”

“Forget Will and Valerie. Explain to me this plan of yours so I can avoid it.”

“You’re not even in the running,” Kate said. “I’m looking for someone tall, successful and distinguished.”

“I’m tall,” Jake said.

“You slump,” Kate said. “Forget it.”

“So tell me again why you came here of all places?”

“My best friend sent me. She thought it was a great idea. She, of course, is not here and has never been here, so she didn’t realize I’d end up on a lake with a bozo like you.”

“And this friend is an expert on men?”

“Jessie? Good heavens, no. She dates even bigger losers than I do.” Kate surveyed him critically. “She’d like you.”

“On that note,” Jake said, “I am going to sleep. Wake me up when it’s time for your date with Donald.”

“I certainly will,” Kate said. “It’s going to be wonderful, and I don’t want to miss a moment.”


At two, Kate met Donald and Penny and a new friend of Penny’s named Brian, and they all drove into town together.

The town was wonderful.

Donald was awful.

He was tall, looming over her in his designer suit. He was distinguished, his cologne discreetly exclusive, his hair cut strand by strand by a trendy stylist. He was successful, everything about him shrieking designer labels and money. He was detached, reserved and worldly. And he was, above all, what Kate would once have called discerning.

By the end of the afternoon, she had acquired a different, unprintable adjective for him.

They went first into a store called The Toby’s Corners Shop. It was crammed floor to ceiling with gifts and souvenirs in colors Mother Nature never made, and Kate drew back, her good taste offended by the cheapness of it all. Penny picked out a pink stuffed dog with a tag around his neck that said “Toby,” and Brian bought it for her. She hugged him to thank him, and he closed his eyes in ecstasy and hugged back.

Donald was patient while they looked through the store, although he told them firmly in a voice that carried from one end of the place to the other that the store was just an overpriced tourist trap. The little old man who ran it looked wounded, so Kate bought Jessie a neon-purple T-shirt that said “Somebody Went To Toby’s Corners And All I Got Was This Lousy T-shirt,” and an ashtray for her father that looked like a dog leaning against a tree.

“I really love your shop,” she told the old man to make up for Donald, and he smiled at her and thanked her and told her about how he and his wife had been running it for almost two years now, to help with their retirement.

Donald waited with ill-disguised patience by the door.

Then they went into The Corners Art Gallery and looked at walls hung with garish landscapes. Kate tried hard to think about all the work that had gone into the paintings instead of about how bad they were. Donald examined the paintings closely. “Amateur brushwork,” he announced. “Paint By Numbers stuff.” The young man behind the counter looked ready to defend his art with his fists, so Kate asked if he had any pictures of the lake and bought one that featured the willow in soft shades of green.

“This is beautiful,” she told the young man. “I love this part of the lake, and now I’ll always have it with me.”

“My mom painted that,” he said. “I’ll tell her what you said. She’ll be real happy.”

Donald snorted.

They went into Mother’s Sewing Basket and looked at locally made quilts and coverlets. Penny found a crazy quilt in shades of yellow. “This would look great on my bed,” she said. Brian grew pale at the thought and moved closer to her. “Cheap fabric,” Donald said. “They’re using polyester instead of cotton.” The little old woman stitching by the window looked ready to cry, so Kate bought a peach-and-blue comforter for her apartment.

“I’ve never had a real patchwork quilt before,” she told the old woman. “This will keep me warm all winter.”

“It will that,” the old woman said, and patted her hand.

Donald sneered.

They went into Cline’s Dry Goods and found rows of cotton and flannel shirts in bright plaids, stacks of dark blue jeans, and piles of socks, white T-shirts, and underwear that Donald snickered at. They also found, to Penny’s delight, a rack of cowboy hats.

Mrs. Cline came out from behind the counter to help her.

“You’re so pretty, you’ll look a treat in any of them, honey,” she told Penny. “It’s a real pleasure to see you try them on.”

Penny beamed at her and tried on a blue one with golden feathers around the crown.

“All right,” Brian said.

“It’s you,” Kate said, laughing. “You have to have it.”

“You, too.” Penny pulled her over to the rack. “You get one, too.”

Mrs. Cline picked up a red hat with white beads. “Try this one,” she urged Kate. “You’d be a picture in a red dress and this one.”

Kate hesitated, and Penny shook her head. “No. That one.” She pointed to a black hat with silver medallions around its crown.

“That’s for a man, honey,” Mrs. Cline said, but she got it down anyway.

Kate put it on and mugged with Penny in the mirror.

“We’ll wear these tonight,” Penny said, and Kate was about to tell her no, cowboy hats weren’t her style, when Donald picked the hat off her head.

“One hundred and twenty-five dollars? That’s ridiculous.”

Kate saw Mrs. Cline color.

“I don’t think so.” Kate took the hat back from him, even though she did think so. “This is a high-quality hat. I’d have to pay a lot more for this in the city.”

She put it on again and let it slide back so it framed her face. She looked a little bald with all her hair pulled into a chignon, so she took the pins out and let her hair fall free.

“All right,” Penny said.

“Now it’s worth one hundred and twenty-five dollars,” Donald said gallantly.

If she wore braids, she could pretend she was Annie Oakley. She’d always wanted to be Annie Oakley. What was she going to do with a one-hundred-and-twenty-five-dollar cowboy hat?

She looked at Mrs. Cline, who looked at her and smiled.

“I’ll take it,” she said. “Penny’s, too. My treat.”

“Oh, Kate, really?”

“Really,” Kate said.


They went into Dickerson’s Snack Shop because Kate said she was tired of shopping. In truth, she was tired of spending money on things she really didn’t want. It’d be just her luck that the next place they’d end up would be a car dealership, and she’d have to make up for Donald’s big mouth by buying a ‘69 Chevy.

“Hi, folks.” A round little woman came to the table, a pad in her hand. “What’ll it be?”

“Hamburger and fries, lots of catsup,” Penny said.

“Hamburger and fries, lots of catsup,” Brian said, adoringly.

“Do you have anything broiled?” Donald asked.

“Mashed potatoes and gravy,” Kate said, reading the menu. “You have mashed potatoes and gravy?”

“Sure do.” The little woman beamed at her. “I make ‘em myself.”

“I love mashed potatoes and gravy,” Kate said. “Real homemade mashed potatoes and gravy. Two orders, please.”

The potatoes when they came were light and fluffy, the gravy dark and speckled with meat chunks and scrapings.

“I’ve died and gone to heaven,” Kate said and the little woman laughed.

“Kate,” Donald said loudly when she’d gone back behind the counter, “they’re instant.”

Kate looked horrified. “They can’t be.” She tasted them. They were thick and rich, full of butter and real potato. “They’re real.”

“No place like this could afford the time to make real mashed potatoes,” Donald told her. “They’re instant.”

Kate ignored him. The gravy was salty and thick, the potatoes creamy, the meat falling apart on her fork. Who needed men? She had this.