"I still don't understand why they picked you to take care of the crossers instead of me. I'd be just as good at it as you are.” Jane nodded sharply.

Sadie stuck her little finger in her right ear and screwed it back and forth. “My hearing must be on the blink. I thought you said you'd be as good at it as I am."

"Maybe even better.” Jane's voice caught in her throat. She frowned as three scantily clad teenagers hurried toward the beach. “Good grief,” she said under her breath. Her gaze lingered on their thonged bottoms. “That's disgusting."

Filling a mug with coffee, Sadie placed it on one of Jane's lace doilies and motioned to her sister to return to her chair. “Drink this. Quit dwelling on our problems. Maybe you could call Mr. Bakke to see if he wants to go for a pontoon ride."

Sadie inched her fingers through her black hair. Black, verging on blue, happened to be the color-of-the-week at Big Leon's beauty shop. She picked at the gelled spikes she had created earlier in the day to make sure they were still standing erect. Glancing at her reflection in the window, she turned from side to side, eyeing the new leopard-print shirt the postman had left in her mail box. She made a mental note to order another push-up bra. Maybe one with a little more lift. She wanted to wow them at the Fertile Turtle. That's if she ever found the time to go dancing again.

Jane's hand suddenly splayed across her chest. “Have you told Nan about the lawsuit? If we lose, she could be evicted from the mortuary."

Sadie loved Nan Harren like a daughter. She cared for Aanders like the grandson she wished she had. The feelings were shared. Harren Funeral Home sat at the edge of the resort property next to Cabin 14. Nan and her eleven-year-old son occupied an apartment in the mortuary, originally designed to house mortuary science students. The land lease the Witt sisters held on the mortuary would be worthless if they lost the lawsuit.