Jane plunged her fingers into her hair in pure frustration at Bitsy's naivete. "I can't believe it!"

"Quit interrupting or I'll lose the thread. Sandy gave her the feminist pitch. It must have turned Bitsy's brains to mush. It was odd, though. Bitsy repeated some of what Sandra said."

"Like what?"

"The domestic angle, apparently. How no matter what the law said, Sandy told her, homes were always women's. They set the schedule, made the meals, hired what help they needed, raised the children, knew instinctively when the dishwasher was making a noise it shouldn't, so the best people to restore the house would be women.

"She surely knew how to play on Bitsy. I could almost sympathize with her for falling for that. But it's so inconsistent with what I believe Sandra really thinks. Isn't that exactly what the far left fringe of feminism wants to get away from? I'd guess that she's never even run a dishwasher because it's a girly thing. Not the least empowering."

Now that Shelley had outlined the gist of the conversation, she returned, as Jane had feared, to another matter. "And just where were you when I was pointing this all out to her?"

"At a patent lawyer's office with Evaline."

Shelley's jaw dropped. "What?"

"She's applying for a patent for her gunk she uses on the Sheetrock. She said she had no close

friends to go with her as a witness and since you were obviously busy, would I come along? It was really sort of touching. How could I have turned down a plea like that?"

"I'll accept this. Marginally/' Shelley said.

"And we're going to have a beer with her after work."

"What kind of bar? Not one of those peculiar ones, I hope. Bald women bikers with pierced parts?"

"No, it's that neighborhood place that serves barbecue."