“Friends and neighbors," Shelley said, trying in vain to disengage her hand. "How do you know Suzie?"

“I've got a little dress shop. Just a hobby, really. Large sizes. I send a lot of my ladies to Suzie to get fitted for" — she lowered her voice to a muted bellow—"undergarments." Suzie, a big, gorgeous, vulgar platinum blonde whom Shelley and Jane were crazy about, was the head clerk of the lingerie section at the department store located in the neighborhood mall.

“Here, let's sit down. I want to know all about you ladies," Eileen said, dragging them over to the table. "Oh, Marge dear, I didn't even see you there. Got your books, I see. Marge always has her nose in a book," she explained. "Can't see how she does it. Reading puts me straight to sleep. Always has.”

They were spared the full force of Eileen's attention by the arrival of yet another camper. "Oh, good, you haven't started eating yet! Hi, everybody. I'm Bob Rycraft. Mrs. Jeffry. . Mrs. Nowack, how you doin'? I didn't know you'd be here. Mr. Claypool.. Mr. Claypool, good to see you guys. I don't think I've met your wives.”

While yet more introductions were conducted, Jane watched Bob move around the table. She didn't know him well, but had always liked him. He was a big, handsome, tawny man in his late thirties who moved with the lazy grace of a lion and had formerly been an athlete — football, Jane thought. Or maybe it was baseball. He and his wife and four little girls had moved to their suburb five years ago. Bob ran an apparently successful mail-order business that sold specialty paper products to companies all over the world. He was an extremely civic-minded guy, coaching at the YMCA and several schools, serving as Parks and Rec chairman on the city council and generously donating envelopes, packing boxes, and such to practically every good cause in town.

“So how are all those girls of yours?" Shelley asked him when they were all seated.