“He doesn't know yet," Missy said. "I'm on my way down to his office to give him his stack of manuscripts."

“Grady will be fun to have in the group. Who else is there?" Jane asked.

“Ruth Rogers and her sister are coming. You know, the ladies who live at the end of the block with the fantastic gardens? I haven't seen anything from them yet, but Ruth told me they intend to write a joint autobiography. Very interesting concept. They were separated as infants and raised apart. Ruth was in a well-run, compassionate orphanage for a while, then adopted by a nice family. Her sister went to a series of foster homes, most of which were pretty dismal, I believe. They just located each other two years or so ago and want to write a book with sort of alternating chapters about their lives. It could work—if they can write well enough. All too often the people with the most interesting lives are deadly dull writers. And sometimes vice versa. They've turned in a rough outline, but no actual writing, so I didn't copy it to the rest of you."

“I like Ruth," Jane said, "but she's one Mrs. General will smash under her heel with no trouble."

“I don't know about that," Shelley said. "There's a tough core deep in that fluffiness. Don't you remember that incident at the pool six or seven years ago?"

“Oh, yes! Ruth was sitting there with her umbrella and sun hat and books and cute little beach slippers and all."

“I don't remember this. What happened?" Missy asked.

“A kid got in trouble in the deep end of the pool, and before the lifeguards even knew what was happening, Ruth leaped from her vast nest of paraphernalia, flung herself in, and rescued the kid. Really took over. Grady wanted to strike some kind of hero medal for her, but she wouldn't have it."

“What's her sister like?" Shelley asked Missy. "I don't know. .I haven't met her yet."