"Oh, no! What's that!"

"You know what it is."

"I hope I'm wrong, but it looks suspiciously like a kitchen! Curses!"

"Now, Jane. You don't ever have to go in it if you don't want to."

"Shelley, don't be an idiot. Where there's a kitchen and a mother, people will expect cooking to be done."

"Then those unnamed people will just have to live with disappointment for a few days," Shelley said.

"I know. That firewood on the deck. Maybe we could use that to board it up and nobody will ever know it's there."

"Too late. I already took the girls to the grocery store and they've filled it with soft drinks and junk food. And I've stashed a lovely bottle of white wine and some of your favorite cheese in the fridge. Want a glass?"

"If you'll fix it," Jane said. "I want to leave here without ever having set foot in that room."

She hauled her bag and Willard down the hall, observing with approval that her daughter, Katie, and Shelley's daughter, Denise, shared a big bedroom, while she had a smaller but more attractive one with its own bath all to herself. Her bedroom had two queen-sized beds with room left over. It also had a glass wall overlooking the deck. She greeted the girls, who were shrieking with laughter and trying out a dreadful mauve shade of nail polish, before taking off her travel clothes and donning a comfortable flannel granny gown and fuzzy slippers. As a child, she'd always been "representing her country" when she traveled and couldn't break the habit of dressing up to get on a plane. Someday she might be able to throw on a pair of jeans and head for the airport, but for now, she was stuck with dresses and hose. She hung up her dress and a few other items that were in her suitcase, then found an extra blanket in the closet and made a nest at the foot of the bed for Willard.