Pam, in her role as hostess, brought Lance a glass of wine, which he accepted with alacrity. “Ladies, if you will, please have a seat. I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”

Obediently as parochial school second graders, we arranged ourselves on sofas and chairs about the living room. Lance remained standing.

He set his wineglass down on a nearby end table and rubbed his hands together. “I suspect Claudia mentioned I have a proposition for you.”

We nodded, twelve bobblehead dolls in the rear window of an old Chevy.

He let his smile slowly revolve around the room. “I’ve been working on a certain project for quite some time, and I think you ladies, the Babes, might be just the ones to help me pull it off.”

“Who? Us?”

The Bunco Babe chorus was worthy of American Idol. Are you listening, Simon Cowell?

Pull it off? I’m not quite sure I liked the way that sounded. Lance made it seem as if he were planning a bank heist and wanted our help in the caper. If so, I hoped Pam wouldn’t be assigned to drive the getaway car-unless the getaway car happened to be a golf cart. The dings and dents on her PT Cruiser speak for themselves. I, on the other hand, have been known to put the pedal to the metal and burn rubber. I’d be a much better choice for the driver of a getaway car. Not that I intended to rob a bank, of course, but I’m always up for an escapade.

I cleared my throat and asked tentatively, “Exactly what is it you have in mind?”

“I’ve written a play, a murder mystery, and plan to produce it right here in Serenity Cove Estates. From everything Claudia’s told me about all of you, you’re just what I’ve been looking for. I see ‘star quality’ written across your faces. With your able assistance, my dear ladies, we can make this into a production residents here will never forget.”

Before we knew it, Lance was whipping out copies of his script, Forever, My Darling. “Let’s give this a quick run-through, shall we?” he said, smiling broadly.