A Self-Made Man
coordinating the renovation of Gambler’s End Lighthouse. This weekend most of Pringle Island society would be out there in cutoff jeans and T-shirts, mixing cement, digging up weeds, picking up trash and slathering on paint. Lacy hadn’t planned to attend, merely because she was up to her ears in arranging the progressive dinner.
    â€œAnd, honestly, I’m just not getting the response I was hoping for. Dr. Blexrud and his wife have cancelled, and half the Boy Explorers troop is calling in sick with ptomaine—apparently they aren’t quiteready to get their campfire cooking badges yet, if you know what I mean.”
    â€œGosh. That’s a shame.” Lacy hadn’t quite figured out where Jennifer was going with this. But then she wasn’t giving it her full attention anyhow. One half of her brain was registering that Gwen and Teddy had put on a sexy Eric Clapton song, and that Teddy’s guitar strumming had ceased.
    â€œSo…” Jennifer’s voice was tighter now. She was narrowing her circle, coming in for the kill. “I was really hoping that maybe you could join us. I know it’s dirty work, but you must have a pair of blue jeans somewhere in that designer closet, don’t you, darling?”
    Lacy chose to ignore the dig. Jennifer knew quite well that Lacy had never shirked hard work. They’d hammered nails and wielded shovels beside one another time and again at local volunteer events—installing the elementary school playground equipment, planting trees in the city park, cleaning up the public beachfront, and a dozen other similar occasions.
    Besides, Lacy was still waiting to hear the real reason for this call. So far this negotiation wasn’t up to Jennifer’s usual standards.
    â€œI’ll be glad to help,” Lacy said. “But I don’t see how my one pair of hands can really compensate for the loss of an entire troop of hearty boys. Do you want me to recruit Gwen, too?”
    â€œUmm…well, sure. That would be great.” Jennifer paused. “And I was thinking, what about Adam Kendall? Any chance you could talk him into pitching in? If we had someone with his…his skills, well, I’m sureeverything would be fine, and I would have plenty of time to cook my chicken for your dinner.”
    Ahh. Lacy felt the claws sink in as Jennifer found her mark. So that was what this was all about. Adam Kendall. But what on earth made the other woman think that Lacy could dictate what Adam did with his weekends? If only Jennifer had seen the contempt in Adam’s eyes last night as he spoke of Lacy’s marriage….
    â€œWhy don’t you ask him yourself, Jen? Didn’t you have dinner with him last night? Surely he’d come if you told him the situation.”
    â€œWell, let’s both ask him,” Jennifer said smoothly. “Between us we must have enough feminine wiles to make sure he shows up.”
    Feminine wiles. Is that what Adam Kendall admired now? Ten years ago he hadn’t. But ten years was a long time.
    A peculiar thumping had begun shaking the ceiling just above her—she could see tiny rainbows dancing on the parlor wall as the crystals in the overhead light fixture shimmied from the vibration.
    Oh, no… Gwen. Gwen, be careful.
    Lacy put her forehead against the heel of her hand and shut her eyes. “Fine, Jennifer,” she said, suddenly tired though it wasn’t yet noon. “We’ll both ask him.”
    Â 
    G WEN FELL BACK AGAINST the mattress, sweaty, exhausted and smiling. She was going to have to take another shower, but it was worth it. She hadn’t had this much fun in months.
    Teddy was still going at it, though. He stood on her other twin bed, shaking his head so fast his hair whipped around wildly, jumping up and down so hard the springs were probably going to pop, playing air guitar like a madman. He actually looked more like the Tazmanian Devil than Eric

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