Minnie waited for a minute till it was clear Rainie wasn't going toanswer. "All right then," said Minnie. "I've got enough in the registerto give you your pay. Take off the apron, you can go."

I don't need your money or your job, you poor old fool, I'mRainie Pinyon, I sing and write songs and play the piano and cutalbums, I've got a million-dollar ranch in the Horse Heaven Hills ofeastern Washington and an agent in L.A. who calls me sweetheart andsends me checks a couple of times a year, checks large enough evenduring the bad years that I could buy your two-bit cafe and move it toTokyo and never even miss the money.

Rainie thought all that, but she didn't say it. Instead she said,"I'm sorry. I'm not going to mess around with anybody's life, and I'llbe careful with Mr. Spaulding."

"Take off the apron, Ida."

Rainie whirled on her. "I said I'd do what you wanted."

"I don't think so," said Minnie. "I think you got the same tone ofvoice I heard in my daughter when she had no intention of doing whatI said, but promised to do it just to get me off her back."

"Well I'm not your daughter. I thought I was your friend."

Minnie looked at her, steady and cold, then shook her head. "IdaJohnson, I can't figure you out. I never thought you'd last a week, andI sure never figured you for the type who'd try to hold onto a lousy joblike this one after the tongue-lashing I just gave you."

"To tell you the truth, Mrs. Wilcox, I never figured myself that wayeither. But I don't want to leave."

"Is it Douglas Spaulding? Are you in love?"

"I used up love a dozen years ago, Mrs. Wilcox, and I haven'tlooked to recharge the batteries since then."

"You mean to tell me you been without a man for twelve years?"

"I thought we were talking about whether I was in love."

"No such thing." Minnie looked her up and down. "I'll bet you