“How does Marge manage with them?" Shelley asked. "She doesn't seem to have — how can I say this nicely? — your 'backbone.' "
“She manages fine. For that reason. Or maybe she's really stronger than I am. I don't know. She just does what they want her to, and goes on her way without getting her knickers in a twist. The minute somebody tells me what to do, I'm fighting it — even if I'd like to do it. Marge just goes with the flow. No nerves at all.”
Jane thought about this assessment for a moment. It was pretty much what Shelley had told her, too. But her own limited acquaintance with Marge didn't bear it out.
“She was certainly nervous last night. Early in the evening, I mean," Jane added hastily, not wanting to bring the subject back to the disappearing body. "She nearly had hysterics over seeing someone in the window the first night, and at the campfire dinner she was as jumpy as a cat.”
Eileen considered this. "Yeah, I guess you're right. But that was unusual. I guess it's just being in strange surroundings or something. I don't think she really likes this outdoorsy stuff. Wild animals and things. I'm not crazy about it either, but it doesn't scare me.”
Her voice had slowed and she was staring past Jane and Shelley. They turned to see what she was looking at.
Marge and Sam had come into the dining room, arm in arm. They were whispering to each other and smiling. Marge's fair face was flushed. Her tidy hair was slightly disarranged. She looked girlish and very happy.
“She doesn't look nervous today," Shelley said. Eileen grinned. "No, she looks like a woman who just had a good bang.”
After a few seconds of stunned silence, Eileen went on, "I can hardly believe it. I don't think I've ever seen them even touch each other, much less act. . romantic. Amazing.”
She started laughing. "Maybe all they've needed all these years was for Sam to get a bump on the head to make their marriage perfect. I might try that on John. Excuse me, please.”
She got up and went to greet her brother-in-law and his happy wife.
Shelley and Jane stared at each other for a minute. "It could happen," Shelley said finally. "I suppose if I'd been told Paul was dead, and then found out he wasn't, I'd have been hanging on to him for dear life."
“So instead of being lying — and possibly crazy — scum, you and I have become heroines. The ditsy ladies who saved an ordinary marriage and turned it into something deliriously wonderful?”
Shelley cocked an eyebrow. "I think that's overstating it a bit."
“I think it's nonsense," Jane said. "There's something going on here that has nothing to do with us. That man was dead last night, Shelley."
“Jane, as much as I hate to say it, we must have been wrong. Look at them. Just look! Sam is alive and well and looking like he might just seduce his wife right here in the midst of the cornflakes."
“Sure. And what we saw was an amazing configuration of wet leaves that happened to look precisely like a dead Sam Claypool with his head bashed in," Jane said. "Uh-huh. Sort of like those people who can see the face of the Virgin Mary on a pepperoni pizza.”
Twelve
Benson entered the dining room and called for everyone's attention. He said he was going to pass out a list of sample classes that the group could attend or learn about. He introduced the instructors individually, and the crowd that had slowly gathered in the lobby and dining room, as local people who had been invited to participate.
Jane and Shelley glanced down the list: Leatherwork, quilting, fishing, boating, local history, local flora and fauna, bird-watching, aerobic exercise, swimming, language lessons — the list went on forever.
“The school board and city council are welcome, of course, to delete any of these they don't want and add their own instructors and subjects," Benson said. "This is just an example. Not all of these classes will actually be held today. The asterisked ones indicate literature only, which is being put out on a table in the lobby. There are sign-up sheets out there, too. It would help the instructors to know approximately how many people to expect.”
Jane glanced at the schedule. There was nothing in the first two-hour slot that interested her. "I think I'll see if Allison is free to gossip about computer stuff," she told Shelley.
“You aren't dying to know about You and the Mammals?"
“Mammals, schmammals," Jane said breezily. "But I do want to go on the bird-watching hike if it doesn't start raining again. It looks like it will."
“Well, I'm going to the leatherwork class," Shelley said.
“Sounds kinky to me."
“It probably won't be, but one can always hope," Shelley said.
They went to sign up and unfortunately got behind Sam and Marge. Sam had his right arm around his wife and didn't let go even to sign up for the classes he wanted. They were so absorbed in each other that they didn't even notice that the women behind them were the ones who had announced his death. Jane noticed Sam was signing both of them up for several classes.
The first class wasn't to begin for fifteen minutes, so Jane and Shelley went back for another cup of coffee. Shelley looked thoughtful. "Jane, this must be costing Benson a considerable amount, bringing in all these people."
“Aren't most of them local?"
“Probably," Shelley said, "but he's still got to at least feed them and probably put a couple of them up for the night. He couldn't ask them to do this and then charge them for food and lodging. He's really going all out to impress us. It was very smart of him to invite the local people. It makes us seem less isolated. He's created a feeling for what this place is like when it's busy and full of people having a good time. Very clever."
“Shelley, what do you think of this summer camp thing?”
Shelley thought for a moment. "I'm not sure. I thought it was a great idea at first, but as irritating and belligerent as Liz is, she has a point. Parents or organizations should pay for summer camp unless it's primarily educational. Why should taxpayers fund it? If we were here on behalf of an inner-city school where the kids have little opportunity to really get a big dose of nature, I'd probably favor it. I guess it does come down to a question of exactly what does constitute education?”
Jane nodded. "I don't think anyone has a good fix on that anyway — despite Liz's views. We'll never go back to straight reading, writing, and arithmetic. And we probably shouldn't. I know my kids have benefited personally from some school activities that weren't strictly academic.”
She spotted Benson nearby and interrupted herself. "Benson, Allison and I have a date to talk computers. I haven't seen her around. Next time you run into her, would you ask what would be a good time?"