surgery just before we got together. Any more questions burning on your brain?” Carla waved off the challenge with a flutter of her hand. “Score one for Molly,” said Barb with a snort and a laugh—until she caught a glower from Carla.
“Whoa,” said Kitsy when Molly was out of earshot. “Whoa.”
She spoke for everyone, including Osborne. Jerry O’Brien had been a patient of his up until Osborne’s retirement. Given the wear on his teeth, he had to be at least sixty-five. More memorable than the man’s mouth was the awful cologne he wore. After every appointment, Osborne’s dental assistant would have to open the office windows—even on a subzero winter day.
Molly married to Jerry O’Brien? Osborne was stunned.
“How many men does it take to screw in a lightbulb?” asked Carla, ready to change the subject.
“Excuse me,” said Ray standing up, “I believe the time has arrived for me to see a man about a dog.” Osborne resisted the urge to follow him down the path toward the lake.
“You tell us,” said Kitsy. “You look like you know a lot about men.”
“One. He just holds it and waits for the world to revolve around him.” Carla cackled at her own joke.
“Now wait a minute,” said Kitsy. “That is absolutely not true of our fishing guru. Ray doesn’t strike me as the self-centered type.” She looked around at the other women.
“I agree,” said Barb. “Doc isn’t either.” She shot Osborne a quick glance, shy but grateful. As if any remark by Barb bored her, Carla rolled her eyes, unzipped her fanny pack, and pulled out a cell phone.
Punching in numbers, Carla turned away from the group, only to turn back after a few seconds and snap the phone shut. “Damn, still doesn’t work,” she said.
“Carla,” Ray asked, trudging up the path just as she was putting her phone away, “didn’t I tell you no cell phones allowed when you’re fishing with me? Frightens the fish, doncha know?”
“How much you want for the pontoon?” asked Carla, ignoring his remark. “It’s for sale, right?”
“Thirty-seven thousand,” said Ray, “includes the trailer.”
“Any discount for cash?”
“Carla, good heavens. What business are you in?” asked Molly as she returned to toss her paper plate into the trash bag that Osborne was holding. “Drugs?” At the look on Carla’s face, she raised a hand—“Just kidding.” But she couldn’t resist a smirk, and Osborne didn’t blame her.
“Real estate,” said Carla. “Opened my own office about six months ago.”
“Oh, really,” said Molly as she sat down on a log. “You must be doing very well.”
“I do okay,” said Carla.
“Not just okay,” said Barb, “we’re doin’ great. Carla got us this client. This big foundation that wants to buy and sell all this land…. Man, we are making money hand over fist. Just listed a big chunk of lake frontage over on Secret Lake.”
The alarm on Carla’s face went unnoticed by Barb, who had her back to her.
“What do you mean?” asked Kitsy, sputtering into her coffee. “That’s my lake. My family owns all the land surrounding that lake. Like who listed anything over there?”
“The Conservation Foundation is buying it from a Mr. Kelly for us to sell on his behalf,” said Barb, still unaware of Carla’s expression. “And We already have a buyer. So we make money on both sides. Very cool.”
“Edward Kelly is my father,” said Kitsy. “He can’t possibly have listed property with you—”
“I have the name right, don’t I?” Barb turned to face Carla. Too late, she got the message and froze.
“Well, he did,” said Carla. “Three hundred acres. You seem surprised, but it’s only a smidgen of everything your family owns over there.”
“That’s not it,” said Kitsy, color rising in her face. “The land is in my mother’s name. Dad can’t do that.”
“That’s not what the records show,” said Carla, her voice calm.
“Hey, everyone,” said
“Whoa,” said Kitsy when Molly was out of earshot. “Whoa.”
She spoke for everyone, including Osborne. Jerry O’Brien had been a patient of his up until Osborne’s retirement. Given the wear on his teeth, he had to be at least sixty-five. More memorable than the man’s mouth was the awful cologne he wore. After every appointment, Osborne’s dental assistant would have to open the office windows—even on a subzero winter day.
Molly married to Jerry O’Brien? Osborne was stunned.
“How many men does it take to screw in a lightbulb?” asked Carla, ready to change the subject.
“Excuse me,” said Ray standing up, “I believe the time has arrived for me to see a man about a dog.” Osborne resisted the urge to follow him down the path toward the lake.
“You tell us,” said Kitsy. “You look like you know a lot about men.”
“One. He just holds it and waits for the world to revolve around him.” Carla cackled at her own joke.
“Now wait a minute,” said Kitsy. “That is absolutely not true of our fishing guru. Ray doesn’t strike me as the self-centered type.” She looked around at the other women.
“I agree,” said Barb. “Doc isn’t either.” She shot Osborne a quick glance, shy but grateful. As if any remark by Barb bored her, Carla rolled her eyes, unzipped her fanny pack, and pulled out a cell phone.
Punching in numbers, Carla turned away from the group, only to turn back after a few seconds and snap the phone shut. “Damn, still doesn’t work,” she said.
“Carla,” Ray asked, trudging up the path just as she was putting her phone away, “didn’t I tell you no cell phones allowed when you’re fishing with me? Frightens the fish, doncha know?”
“How much you want for the pontoon?” asked Carla, ignoring his remark. “It’s for sale, right?”
“Thirty-seven thousand,” said Ray, “includes the trailer.”
“Any discount for cash?”
“Carla, good heavens. What business are you in?” asked Molly as she returned to toss her paper plate into the trash bag that Osborne was holding. “Drugs?” At the look on Carla’s face, she raised a hand—“Just kidding.” But she couldn’t resist a smirk, and Osborne didn’t blame her.
“Real estate,” said Carla. “Opened my own office about six months ago.”
“Oh, really,” said Molly as she sat down on a log. “You must be doing very well.”
“I do okay,” said Carla.
“Not just okay,” said Barb, “we’re doin’ great. Carla got us this client. This big foundation that wants to buy and sell all this land…. Man, we are making money hand over fist. Just listed a big chunk of lake frontage over on Secret Lake.”
The alarm on Carla’s face went unnoticed by Barb, who had her back to her.
“What do you mean?” asked Kitsy, sputtering into her coffee. “That’s my lake. My family owns all the land surrounding that lake. Like who listed anything over there?”
“The Conservation Foundation is buying it from a Mr. Kelly for us to sell on his behalf,” said Barb, still unaware of Carla’s expression. “And We already have a buyer. So we make money on both sides. Very cool.”
“Edward Kelly is my father,” said Kitsy. “He can’t possibly have listed property with you—”
“I have the name right, don’t I?” Barb turned to face Carla. Too late, she got the message and froze.
“Well, he did,” said Carla. “Three hundred acres. You seem surprised, but it’s only a smidgen of everything your family owns over there.”
“That’s not it,” said Kitsy, color rising in her face. “The land is in my mother’s name. Dad can’t do that.”
“That’s not what the records show,” said Carla, her voice calm.
“Hey, everyone,” said
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