"Wait till you get a look at this." She unrolled the old floor plans as the house had been originally on Jane's kitchen table, and kept them from snapping back into a roll with a salt-and-pepper shaker.

Then she flipped open her notebook. She pointed to the total dimensions of the back of the house on the second floor in the plans. Then she showed Jane her own figures.

"It's a foot and half off. Where did we go wrong?" Jane asked.

"Jane, get a grip. We didn't go wrong. You can't have already forgotten how obsessively precise I was upstairs, could you?"

"I'll never forget."

"Didn't Bitsy say this was done by an architectural engineer?"

"I seem to remember that she did."

"Do you see the name of the firm anywhere on this paper? Much less an individual's name?"

Jane stared. "Who really did this? Not Bitsy. She wouldn't even take the time to fake this up, however incompetently."

"Now look at the finished plan for the first floor," Shelley said, removing the salt-and-pepper shaker and replacing the old plan with the new plan and anchoring them down the same way.

Jane read the dimensions, then consulted Shelley's notebook. "It's even farther off what we measured. Nearly three feet just across the back. And no name on this one, either."

"So we figure Bitsy didn't do this herself, right? So who did?"

"Sandy," Jane said firmly.

"Sandra, or some amateur friend of Sandra's, maybe," Shelley qualified. "One of her feminist gang, I'm willing to bet. Maybe she has a daughter studying architecture."

"Shelley, we really should tell Bitsy this. She's not one of my favorite people, but I hate to see her being made a fool of."

"You bet we will."

Jane thought for a moment, then said, "Shouldn't we just bow out and let them fumble through it themselves?"