Paradise Lost

before by hanging a form on the outside of their door.

While Joanna scrambled into her clothing and makeup, Butch settled down at the table with a cup of coffee and USA Today.

“I really like this man-of-leisure stuff,” he said, when she came out of the bathroom and stood shoving her feet into a pair of heels. Like everything else in Joanna Brady’s wardrobe, the shoes were new—purchased as replacements for ones destroyed by Reba Sin­gleton’s rampage through Joanna’s house. The shoes looked nice, hut they were still a long way from being comfortable.

“Don’t rub it in,” she grumbled. “If you’re not writing, what are you planning to do while I’m in meetings?”

“Today the wives are scheduled to take a trip out to the Navajo Reservation,” Butch answered. “Since I’m done writing, I thought I’d tag along with them on that. I’m especially interested in Indian-made turquoise and silver, jewelry.”

“In other words, while I’m stuck listening to one more dreary speaker, you’ll be spending the day on a bus loaded with a dozen or so women I don’t know.”

Butch lowered the paper and looked at her. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

Joanna shrugged. “Maybe a little,” she admitted.

“Have you seen any of those other women?” he asked. “They’re all a lot older than you are, Joey, and not nearly as good-looking. In addition, I’m short and bald. That doesn’t make me what you’d call the sexy leading-man type.”

“Yul Brynner and Telly Savalas were both bald,” Joanna coun­tered. “And so is Andre Agassi. Nobody says any of them aren’t sexy.

She sat down at the table and took a tentative sip of her coffee. He reached across the table and touched her hand. “But I’m in love with you, Joey,” he said. “And you’re in love with me, so don’t go around worrying about the competition. There isn’t any”

She smiled back at him. “Okay,” she said.

Just then Joanna’s cell phone rang. She retrieved it from the bedside table where she’d left it overnight, recharging. The display said the call was coming from High Lonesome Ranch.

“Good morning, Jenny,” she said. “How are things?”

“Do I have to go on the camping trip?” Jennifer Ann Brady whined.

Joanna felt a stab of worry. Maybe Jenny was sick. “Are you feeling all right? You’re not running a fever, are you?” she asked.

“I’m not sick,” Jenny answered. “I just don’t want to go is all. Mrs. Lambert told us last night at the troop meeting that we won’t he able to cook over a campfire because we can’t have any fires. Some dork at the Forest Service decided it’s too dry for campfires. Without cooking, I probably won’t be able to earn any of the badges I thought I was going to earn. I’d rather stay home.”

“You know that’s not an option, Jenny,” Joanna said firmly. “You said you were going when you signed up. Now you have to keep your word.”

“But I hate it. I don’t even want to be a Girl Scout anymore. It’s dorky.”

The word “dork” is certainly getting a workout this morning, Joanna thought. But the idea of Jenny wanting to quit Girl Scouts was news to Joanna. From the moment her daughter had been old enough to join Daisies, Girl Scouting was something Jenny had loved.

“Since when?” Joanna asked. “Is it because you have a new leader? Is that it?”

“No. Mrs. Lambert is nice and so is the new assistant leader. I like them both, but it’s still dorky”

“I’m a little tired of things being dorky at the moment,” Joanna said. “Could you maybe think of some other word to use? As for the subject of quitting, if that’s what you decide to do, fine, but only after we have a chance to discuss it as a family. Right now, you’ve made a commitment to go on a camp-out, and you need to keep that commitment. Mrs. Lambert has made arrangements for food and transportation and all those other details. It wouldn’t be fair for you to back out now. You need to live up to your word, Jenny. Besides, Grandma and Grandpa Brady agreed to look after the ranch for the weekend. They didn’t agree to look after the