Why didn't Marty break down and buy a com-

puter? She'd married or lived off a string of wealthy men. That way she could always reach anyone she wanted by E-mail. Jane and her parents were in touch at least weekly often daily, and it was free, unlike phone calls to foreign countries.

As usual, Jane didn't return the call right away. Sometimes she got lucky if she dawdled and whatever problem Marty imagined had already solved itself. And on occasion, Marty herself couldn't even remember. This evening would be soon enough.

The phone rang while she was writing down the number on the caller ID. She wondered vaguely where Marty was now. She didn't recognize the area code.

She saw that it was Shelley and picked up.

"Are you back to real life yet? I saw you sitting outside grinning. Nice evening with Mel?"

"Unfortunately, I am back to the nitty-gritty. Come on over and I'll feed you some kind of breakfast."

Shelley was there in about half a minute. "Isn't it great when all the kids want for breakfast is an egg sandwich and a bottle of orange juice to eat and drink on their way to school?" she said. "I shudder at the recollection of having to cook pancakes or bacon at the crack of dawn."

"All I have is some sort of healthy granola bars," Jane said apologetically. "But they're not bad. Here you go," she said, tossing a couple on

the kitchen table and pouring their coffee. "Got a call from my sister while I was outside."

"What does she need now?"

"I haven't called back to see. Remember the time she wanted me to rush to Seattle because she had to have an ingrown toenail removed and expected the whole family to gather around to comfort her?"

"I'd forgotten that one. The one I liked best was the time you were supposed to go to Nashville— or was it Savannah? — to help her pick out a dress for a banquet."