Free Off Course by Michelle Huneven Page B

could only write down the temperature…”
    â€œI can’t, Mom. I just can’t.”
    A long silence. Moonlight filled the room with blue.
    â€œI’m glad you’re getting your work done,” Sylvia said.
    â€œI am, more or less. And it’s pretty up here.”
    Sylvia moved her hand over the bedspread to Cress’s shin and squeezed. “Not such a concentration camp after all?”
    *   *   *
    Tillie said, “Are you meeting any new men up there?”
    â€œSupply exceeds demand,” said Cress.
    Between the carpenters and a sheepish Jakey, she never had to pay for a drink. Being single on the mountain was a form of public service.
    *   *   *
    The flaps on Don Dare’s tent were open. T-shirts hung on a clothesline strung between trees. The Sawyer Songbird was wringing out a cloth over in some bushes. “Hello? Hello?” Cress called. “Are you the famous Donna?”
    The Songbird regarded her coolly. “Do I know you?”
    â€œWe’ve never officially met. I live in the Meadows? Don works on my folks’ house? He said I should introduce myself. You are Donna?”
    The Sawyer Songbird glared. Between them, on the heavy, government-issue picnic table, sat a coffee can stuffed with dry, fuzzy grasses. “I guess not!” Cress said brightly, and turned to leave. “Sorry!”
    â€œJust what did Don say about me?”
    Cress swung around. “That I should introduce myself.”
    Another long, scouring look. “You want some ice tea?”
    Donna lowered a netted cooler—“The bear’s piñata,” she called it—and took a pick to the block of ice, filling two pint mason jars with large clear shards, then sun tea from a pitcher. They took seats across from each other at the picnic table.
    â€œI love your tent. It’s so exotic. And luxurious.”
    â€œYou’ve been here before?” The coldness and suspicion were back.
    â€œJakey Yates showed it to me once—Jakey, who runs the lodge?”
    â€œAre you the one seeing him?”
    â€œ I was ,” said Cress. “We split up.”
    â€œProbably for the best,” Donna said. “For you, at least.”
    â€œYeah—since he was seeing fifty other women at the same time.”
    â€œJakey’s a goat, all right,” Donna said.
    â€œAnd I thought he was just this sweet, lonely divorced guy.”
    â€œI know a goat when I see one,” said Donna, “’cause I used to be married to one. I know the signs.”
    â€œLike what?” said Cress. “What signs?”
    â€œThat spotlight of attention. The way they single you out, get you off by yourself. Jakey damn near irradiates a girl. And the sexual confidence!”
    â€œReally? He just seemed so good-natured and easygoing to me.”
    â€œYeah? Well, whatever you do, don’t marry him,” Donna said. “That’ll really drive you crazy. Those goaty guys sneak and lie for the fun of it. Never a straight answer to your questions.”
    â€œJakey and I didn’t even get to the point where I could ask questions.”
    â€œGod, I cross-examine Don so much, he thinks I’m a nutcase. But if he’s got nothing to hide, he’s got nothing to worry about, right?” Donna poured more tea. “Oh, another sign would be crabs. Or chlamydia. Warts.”
    â€œYeesh,” said Cress. “I probably should see a gyno.” The evening breeze high up in the pines made the long needles hiss. Cress was struck, not for the first time, how women could go from hello to gynecology within minutes of meeting. “But Don’s crazy about you,” she said. “He told me right away that you two are exclusive.”
    â€œWhy should that even come up?” said Donna. “Was he flirting?”
    â€œNot at all.” A small lie. But why get Don in trouble? Especially since she