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It was Thursday morning, a humid day in Seaborough. The Weather Channel showed clear skies over the Gulf of Mexico, but Jean Colfax watched a long line of grey clouds march slowly up from the horizon, casting shadows on the shallow water. She'd decided to sit out on the balcony of her bedroom this morning to wait for her sister to arrive. If Ida was surprised, she didn't show it. She began to fish around for a dress to cover up Mrs. Colfax's blue chiffon nightgown—"Cannot be anything too formal," she said in her German accent, "but nothing too plain, either." She pulled a red silk kimono from the back of a closet: it had hung there since some Christmas long ago. "This thing! It looks like a dress for an old prostitute. I'll send it to Goodwill next week."

"That's what I want to wear," said Jean. "Tie a scarf around my head so my skin won't sag."

"Oh no, dear, you don't want to wear this."

"I do."

"No you don't."

"Yes I do. And don't forget the scarf. I look like a sick elephant."

"Nooo—your skin looks better than mine—with all my spots. See these? That's what I deserve for not taking care of my hands, staying in this sun all year long."

"I've aged too, Ida."

"You have? I haven't noticed it, Mrs. Colfax."

"I have."

Ida chuckled. "Have it your way," she said, shaking her head. She dressed Jean and helped her outside to the balcony, wondering how long this situation would last—like getting children ready to play in the snow, knowing they might not stay out more than minutes. A glass of orange juice was brought, the usual pair of sunglasses, a sweater for the shoulders, in case the breeze was too brisk in the shade. Ah, all ready, all comfortable. Ida nodded her head, satisfied, and hurried off to make beds and iron shirts and recheck the Weather Channel.

Jean hadn't looked at the ocean in a long time: from her seat here on the balcony, it reminded her of a painting in somebody's living room, maybe over a piano. Far away across the choppy green waves she saw Bill's sailboat fluttering up and down, a little corner of white paper torn from the sky. What a relief to have him out of reach, out of earshot, and yet be able to keep an eye on him! She'd have had it that way with everybody if she could have arranged it—everybody except Ida, whom she couldn't allow out of her sight for long, and Ed Flint, who kept her fixed up. And, too, she seemed to need to talk now and then just to exercise her voice, and for that she needed her sister, at least once a week. But no more.

It was peaceful up here—just the steady beat of the wind and the static of the tide. She closed her eyes and dozed. When she woke again, she heard voices below: Linda Kate and Mary Beth chatting. This was nice. The girls always terrified her when they came up to see her (at least it didn't happen often), but listening to them this way—well, it was like being a fly on the wall, a little beetle crawling across the ceiling, unnoticed. No worry at all.

"Who were those people who came by on Tuesday?" said Mary Beth.

Linda Kate sounded grumpy. "Just work friends of Stannie. From the magazine."

"Did he invite them?"

"I have no idea."

"I asked him to go shopping with me yesterday, and then he just left."

"So?"

"Well, it was rude."

"And that surprises you? That Stannie could be rude?"

"No. But does he hate me or something?"

"You're asking the wrong person, Mary Beth. I have no idea who he hates and who he doesn't."

There was silence for a second. "I'm sorry," said Mary Beth. "I'm just sick of this place. Everybody's boring here. Uncle Jim stayed for ages. And all Jimbo did was drink all weekend—and that guy with him, he was so gay."

"Don't be a bigot."

The younger girl sighed loudly."Well I'd just like a chance to meet a decent–looking guy for once, you know, who's not gay? Somebody who doesn't just fish and hit little balls around all day, either, who can actually carry on an intelligent conversation."

Linda Kate laughed. "It's this weather getting to you. We should take a trip."

"Another trip?"

"Yes."

"But you just went to Switzerland."

"So?"

"Well, anyway, where would we go?"

"I don't know. I was reading about these eco–tours deals in Alaska. We could take a helicopter over the Tongass rainforest."

"Oh. Count me out."

"Does everything have to be mindless and expensive to please you, Mary Beth?"

"Yes. If I have to pack, I want to go to Vegas. We haven't been there all year."

"What if we just rented a car and drove to Vegas? Wouldn't that be a blast? Stay in slummy little motels the whole way? We could take a movie camera and make a crazy documentary for Stannie. 'Journey Across America with Mary Beth and Linda Kate.'"

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