Fear of Frying

“Of the chances the school board and city council will contract with Benson.”

Jane felt instinctively this wasn't a person who could be tactfully lied to. 'I have no idea. I really haven't been involved in the discussion until tonight: I assumed it was all but a done deal and we were just here to give a final approval, but now I'm not so sure.”

Edna nodded. 'Thanks for your honesty. Oh, it looks like our stragglers have arrived,' she said as headlights swept across the front door. 'I need to get their dinners ready. Would you mind greeting them?”

She hurried back to the kitchen. Jane put out her cigarette and went to the door. A tall, stately black woman with very short hair and a red, fringed poncho was coming across the parking lot with long, determined strides. She stepped onto the porch and took Jane's hand in an almost painfully firm grasp. 'I'm Liz Flowers,' she said. 'You must be Jane Jeffry. And this is my husband—' She turned around and realized she was alone. 'Al? Have you lost yourself in the woods already? Where are you?'

“Just coming, hon.' Al emerged from the darkness. He was taller and much darker skinned than Liz, and considerably heavier. Jane thought he looked like a Masai warrior who'd let his weight get out of hand.

“The owner's mother is warming up your dinner,' Jane said. 'Come on inside.'

“See, Al? I told you that you wouldn't have to starve,' Liz said. 'You didn't need to stop and get that packet of Oreos. Everyone else is here, I guess?' she added to Jane, who was holding the door open. 'Thanks.”

Jane trailed along, bemused by the couple. Liz headed straight for the dining room without a moment's hesitation, as if she had an internal compass. She greeted those she knew, introduced herself to everyone else, told Al where to sit, and took Benson's now vacant place at the end of the table. Liz was forceful, energetic, and brisk.

Al Flowers appeared to be a mellow man happily caught in her force field. He gazed around the room, shaking his head slowly in approval. 'Nice place,' he said, smiling vaguely.

“Well, of course it's nice,' Liz said. 'We knew that from the brochures. Now, what's the plan?' she demanded of the others. She hauled a large tote bag out from under her colorful poncho and plunged her hand into it. 'I've made some notes of things we need to look at, and propose that at least two people, working independently, evaluate each.''Now, Lizzie,' Al said softly.

Amazingly, she stopped talking for a second, and stashed the notebook. 'Okay, okay. But we have limited time and shouldn't be wasting it.'

“There's plenty of time, Liz.' He had a deep, rumbly voice.

Benson came through the kitchen doors with a tray of desserts just as Marge Claypool screamed.

Four

'There There was a face at the window!”

Marge was white with fear and embarrassment at having made a scene.

“Must have been Lucky Smith,' Benson said an- grily. 'I'm going to call the sheriff right now and see if Lucky can be watched more carefully. This is trespassing at the least and I won't have it!'

“No, no! Don't call the sheriff. Please,' Marge said. 'I don't want to make trouble for anyone.'

“Marge is right,' her husband, Sam, said. 'It's late and we're all tired and we'd be up half the night if you call and get the sheriff out here.”

Benson unwillingly agreed, but added, 'He really is harmless. Obnoxious and distasteful, but harmless. I'm sorry he upset you, but don't let it spoil your dessert. It's my wife, Allison's, special recipe.'

“Your wife?' Jane asked.

“Right. Allison's a little under the weather tonight and let the cook make dessert, but she'll be up and around tomorrow.”

The dessert was divine — a shortcake that nearly floated off the plate, crushed raspberries, and real clotted cream. Jane wasn't hungry after her big dinner, but she polished off dessert and barely restrained herself from licking the plate.

A couple of 'Now, Lizzie's' from Al kept them from enduring an extra hour of planning sessions, which Lizzie dearly wanted to inflict on them, but it was still nearly ten o'clock when they started back to their cabins. Without anyone mentioning it openly, they agreed to move out in a group. Marge's fright had gotten under everyone's skin and made them all realize how far they were from their usual habitat.

“Benson and Allison,' Jane said quietly to Shelley as they walked along the road, all four Claypools in a bunch in front of them, and the Flowerses following with Bob Rycraft. 'I once dated a guy named Jan, but I refused to marry him because I didn't want to go through life as half of 'Jane and Jan.' '

“You're making that up,' Shelley said.

“How'd you know?'

“Al, will you keep your flashlight pointed at the road?' Liz demanded. 'You're going to trip and hurt yourself.”

Jane and Shelley could barely hear the 'Now, Lizzie.”

When they were safely and comfortably locked up in their own cabin, Shelley declared first dibs on the fancy bathtub, and Jane bundled up to go sit on the back porch for a while. But she didn't last long. At first all she could hear was the pleasant burble of the now invisible stream running below and behind the cabin. But as her eyes and ears adjusted, she started imagining she could see tiny movements out of the corner of her vision and hear scrabbling sounds in the dried leaves. Probably just mice, she told herself. Then she heard something much larger moving around in the creek. Perhaps a big dog. Perhaps a person.

She dragged a few logs inside and locked the doors. She put them in the fireplace, but decided by the time she got the fire going, they'd probably both be asleep and she'd have to put it out again. Experience had taught her that this was a very smelly process.