way back when prime lakeshore was cheap, could afford better.”
“But you’ve stayed for generations.”
“Well, it’s better than nothing,” she said practically. “None of us are wealthy enough to trade up. But now people like your friend have run out of premium lakeshore to exploit and are starting to take over the smaller lakes. Crappy lakes. Like this lake. Only they call ’em ‘wilderness lakes.’” She snorted derisively. “They’re running off the locals. Putting up monstrosities and eating up acreage and raising the property taxes until people who’ve been here for decades can’t afford to stay.”
“I suspect I’m going to regret saying this, but aren’t you overreacting?” he asked.
She regarded him sadly a few seconds, then slapped her thigh and stood up. She reached down for his hand. He didn’t hesitate to take hers. “Come on, Doubting Joe,” she said. “Let me show you something.”
Chapter Six
Mimi was limping purposefully past Cottage Two when her great-aunt Johanna literally popped out of the bushes.
“Geez!” Mimi gasped. “You scared the crap out of me, Johanna!”
“Sorry, Mimi,” she said, regarding Joe with interest. “I’m hiding from Naomi. She keeps trying to hang a bedsheet on me.”
“It’s a tunic,” Mimi said. “She wants us to celebrate Ardis’s passing in a traditional Viking manner.”
“And that means a toga? I thought togas were Roman.”
“It’s not a toga, it’s a tunic,” Mimi repeated patiently. “And just be glad she didn’t pound breastplates out of garbage-can lids.”
Johanna’s gaze shifted to Joe. “And who might this be?”
“This is Joe.”
“How do you do, Joe? You must have just gotten in. Staying the night? The week? The cabins are awfully cozy, aren’t they? I hope Mimi’s taking good care of you?”
Mimi waited. Johanna was the romantic in the family and fancied herself a matchmaker. The fact that she’d never actually had any success in this area did not deter her.
“I couldn’t hope to be in better hands,” Joe was saying, “Miss…?”
Johanna fluttered. “Olson. Mrs . Olson, actually. Johanna Olson.”
“Ah, lucky Mr. Olson.”
Smooth, Mimi thought admiringly. He’d even managed to say it without sounding smarmy. Which was quite a feat since it was a highly smarmy comment.
“Oh, he died,” Johanna volunteered. “Thirty-five years ago come November.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Joe said, dialing down the charm.
Johanna nodded, lowered her eyes respectfully, then said, “So. How did you meet our Mimi, Joe? Did you call her eight hundred number? She meets a lot of men that way. Of course, most of them are losers, not to put a shine on it. I can’t imagine you calling.”
Mimi looked at Joe to see how he handled these decidedly provocative comments. Unsurprisingly, he looked nonplussed. How else would he look? Johanna had made it sound like she worked on a phone sex line.
Mimi took pity on him. “Gotta go, Johanna. Taking Joe on the grand tour. Back later.” She hooked an arm through his, steering him away from Johanna and onto the footpath leading through the woods.
“What did she mean?” Joe asked.
Now, Mimi wasn’t embarrassed by her occupation, but experience had taught her that most people considered phone sex purveyors marginally more principled than mediums. So generally when she met people, she tried to keep from revealing her unusual career until after she’d hopefully established herself as a sound, reasonable, and principled woman. But even if Joe was the handsomest man she’d met in ages, he was just somebody’s temporary houseguest, and she was just filling up a few hours before the toasts to Ardis began. There was no reason to equivocate.
“I’m a tele-medium,” she said, hobbling along. “People call the eight hundred number I work for and I contact the Other Side for them.”
He slowed down. She kept moving.
“Really?”
“Yup. We work out of an
“But you’ve stayed for generations.”
“Well, it’s better than nothing,” she said practically. “None of us are wealthy enough to trade up. But now people like your friend have run out of premium lakeshore to exploit and are starting to take over the smaller lakes. Crappy lakes. Like this lake. Only they call ’em ‘wilderness lakes.’” She snorted derisively. “They’re running off the locals. Putting up monstrosities and eating up acreage and raising the property taxes until people who’ve been here for decades can’t afford to stay.”
“I suspect I’m going to regret saying this, but aren’t you overreacting?” he asked.
She regarded him sadly a few seconds, then slapped her thigh and stood up. She reached down for his hand. He didn’t hesitate to take hers. “Come on, Doubting Joe,” she said. “Let me show you something.”
Chapter Six
Mimi was limping purposefully past Cottage Two when her great-aunt Johanna literally popped out of the bushes.
“Geez!” Mimi gasped. “You scared the crap out of me, Johanna!”
“Sorry, Mimi,” she said, regarding Joe with interest. “I’m hiding from Naomi. She keeps trying to hang a bedsheet on me.”
“It’s a tunic,” Mimi said. “She wants us to celebrate Ardis’s passing in a traditional Viking manner.”
“And that means a toga? I thought togas were Roman.”
“It’s not a toga, it’s a tunic,” Mimi repeated patiently. “And just be glad she didn’t pound breastplates out of garbage-can lids.”
Johanna’s gaze shifted to Joe. “And who might this be?”
“This is Joe.”
“How do you do, Joe? You must have just gotten in. Staying the night? The week? The cabins are awfully cozy, aren’t they? I hope Mimi’s taking good care of you?”
Mimi waited. Johanna was the romantic in the family and fancied herself a matchmaker. The fact that she’d never actually had any success in this area did not deter her.
“I couldn’t hope to be in better hands,” Joe was saying, “Miss…?”
Johanna fluttered. “Olson. Mrs . Olson, actually. Johanna Olson.”
“Ah, lucky Mr. Olson.”
Smooth, Mimi thought admiringly. He’d even managed to say it without sounding smarmy. Which was quite a feat since it was a highly smarmy comment.
“Oh, he died,” Johanna volunteered. “Thirty-five years ago come November.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Joe said, dialing down the charm.
Johanna nodded, lowered her eyes respectfully, then said, “So. How did you meet our Mimi, Joe? Did you call her eight hundred number? She meets a lot of men that way. Of course, most of them are losers, not to put a shine on it. I can’t imagine you calling.”
Mimi looked at Joe to see how he handled these decidedly provocative comments. Unsurprisingly, he looked nonplussed. How else would he look? Johanna had made it sound like she worked on a phone sex line.
Mimi took pity on him. “Gotta go, Johanna. Taking Joe on the grand tour. Back later.” She hooked an arm through his, steering him away from Johanna and onto the footpath leading through the woods.
“What did she mean?” Joe asked.
Now, Mimi wasn’t embarrassed by her occupation, but experience had taught her that most people considered phone sex purveyors marginally more principled than mediums. So generally when she met people, she tried to keep from revealing her unusual career until after she’d hopefully established herself as a sound, reasonable, and principled woman. But even if Joe was the handsomest man she’d met in ages, he was just somebody’s temporary houseguest, and she was just filling up a few hours before the toasts to Ardis began. There was no reason to equivocate.
“I’m a tele-medium,” she said, hobbling along. “People call the eight hundred number I work for and I contact the Other Side for them.”
He slowed down. She kept moving.
“Really?”
“Yup. We work out of an
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