“Good morning, ladies,” I declare, practically bouncing into the boathouse. Sam and Lilly look up from their machines with matching grins. Johnny is just coming out of the bathroom and comes over to give me a nice hug.

“Hey, look whose gunna be on Oprah!” Johnny singsongs and I give him a playful slug.

“No way,” I reply and send Sam a wink.

“Eve Moss,” Ruby calls from the back. “Get your rear back here this minute!”

I shrug my shoulders to the group and head back to the office. Howard and Ruby are clustered in front of my computer screen.

“There you are, darling.” Ruby motions for me to come over and have a look. Howard stands. I sit in his place and stare into the screen.

“What the hell? I mean, is this for real?”

“We got the e-mail this morning,” Howard says, folding his muscled arms across his chest. “What do you think?”

“Martha? I mean—really? This is too much.”

“Think what it could mean for sales, darling,” Ruby implores. Dressed head-to-toe in a tasteful denim number. “I could go on her show—being as I am Ruby of Ruby’s Aprons.” I roll my eyes at Howard.

“She’s only asking to see some samples,” I remind her. “For all we know, they may want to copy them or…”

“Copy them?” Ruby’s voice rises up a good octave. “Bloody hell she’ll copy them. Why—we’d sue her bum right off!” Howard and I giggle and then so does Ruby.

“My goodness.” Ruby pats her hair. “I do get my knickers in a twist now and again, don’t I?”

“Ruby,” I explain, “this is only a request to see if maybe we could fit into their catalog, and to be honest with you, I don’t care to be in anyone’s catalog.”

We hear a round of applause from the front room. Sam throws in one of her ear-piercing two-fingered whistles for bad measure. Howard prints out the note and hands it over to me. Ruby and I head to the front. It’s become a “note” world, hasn’t it?

“I’ve a bit of news for you all,” I say, clearing my throat. The sewing machines have all stopped. Ruby turns down the CD of Django Reinhardt and I recite:

“Good grief,” I mutter. “Back to the kitchen? And what’s this stuff about cocooning?”

“Perhaps, darling,” Ruby offers from the kitchen, “they’re desperate for a jump-start of sorts. Maybe they see us as competition or—”

“Maybe,” Sam says, chuckling, “they’s just looking to get somethin’ free and I say—jump on this.” Sam holds up a see-through apron of white tulle all cinched together at the waist like a ballerina costume.

“That’s fancy,” I say, coming over for a closer look. “Wow, this is really fun.” I tie it around my waist and model it. “Hey, you know, this reminds me of something I think it’s time we do. But first, here.” I hand the apron back to Sam. “I’ll tell Howard we’re not quite ready for Martha.”

“Consider it done,” Howard yells from the back and we all sigh.

Don’t get me wrong, we want to make this a successful business and all, but I’ve learned that keeping things within a certain parameter keeps them—yours. I don’t want to grow into a huge mega apron industry. I like how things are and my hope, ours really, is to grow slowly and grow how we as a group want to. How’s that for a business plan? Imagine if we all would rein things in a little closer and realize we have enough.

Ruby hands me a mug of coffee and gives my shoulder a squeeze. I go over to my cutting table and dig in. But before I cut a thing, I lift my stack of neon green fabric pieces and make sure there’s nothing else under there. Ruby turns up the stereo again and Django is back strumming his hot-jazz guitar to “Minor Swing.”

As I zoom my electric shears along, I say to the group, “I’ve been thinking.” Lilly groans and I slit my eyes at her. She shakes her head and revs her machine. “We all need some exercise and, well, I, for one, need to drop—”

“I could drop,” Sam says loud as all get-out, “’bout what Ruby weighs wet—and that’s no lie.”

“You would be surprised,” Lilly states with authority, adjusting her bifocals. “I have a bit more to me than the eye reveals. I’ve just learned to layer.” We all say the layer part in unison. We all layer.

This is a universal trick any overweight woman knows. Men, well, the heavy ones anyway, just seem to openly burst out of their clothes with no shame whatsoever. Walk through any mall and count all those bellies hanging over.

“Howard and I,” Johnny admits, “we’ve learned this technique of not breathing really deep and holding in the tummy. Like this.” He stands and lifts his cashmere sweater, revealing a protruding hairy belly. Then he sucks it in and it disappears into the six-pack I knew was there. Damn in-shape types.

“You all full of crap,” Sam tsk-tsks. “Howard and you got bodies better than those boys over there.” She points to the Chippendale calendar on the wall.

I turn around and have a look at Mr. October. Okay, another look. Oh my.

“Have you been checking me out?” Johnny asks, grinning.

“Honey,” Sam drawls out long and luscious. “Whether you or Howard’s coming or goin’, we ladies is checking things out—uh-huh.” Everyone laughs. Johnny blushes.

“You know…” Lilly’s machine comes to a halt. She reaches up to smooth her towering silver do. “I used to be a professional belly dancer.” Everyone holds their breath.

“Why Lilly,” Ruby remarks with admiration, “you are just full of surprises.”

“Well,” Lilly hesitates. “It was about a hundred years ago.” Then she lifts her head a bit more. “But damn it was a lot of fun and an excellent exercise for a gal, too!”

“You know,” I offer, “I’m not too keen on doing, like, weight-lifting-exercise-stuff. As you can tell…besides, I would hate to get all toned. Like Madonna.” What a lie that is.

“Oh right,” Johnny chides. “Wouldn’t it just be the pits if all of a sudden you got all toooooned.” I toss a bolt of material at him; he catches it midair and then sticks out his tongue. The nerve.

“As I was trying to explain,” I lift my well-arched brows and aim them toward Johnny. “Belly dancing doesn’t have that gym-y sound and maybe it’d actually work on my, on my—everything.”

“I’d give it a go.” Sam gets up and swivels her impressive hips. “Whew! That’s all for today, though. That is a lot-a-work.” She thumps back down with a sigh.

“Hell,” I add. “How about it then? We’ve got the entire loft above the barn; it would be perfect.”

“Sounds like,” Howard says, coming in from the back, “I’ve got another remodeling assignment. I just completed the finishing touches on Eve’s minisalon up at the cottage, so I’d be glad to look the loft space over.”

“You best make sure those floors are good and sturdy,” Sam adds, revving her machine, bending over and sewing up a storm.

Howard lumbers out the screen door and I notice how we all do look his way. Even Lilly takes a careful peek. I shrug my shoulders toward Johnny and get cutting.

Later that afternoon, after a delicious “Taco Tuesday” lunch (compliments of Howard, his specialty), Ruby and I head over to the loft for an inspection. The boys went home first and then are going to meet up with us there. Sam and Lilly are on the ferry by now, a storm is brewing, and I don’t want them to get stranded.

We’re walking up the path from the boathouse to the barn. It curves up and around the cottage toward the back porch door. Behind the barn, a lazy creek flings around and then follows down a hill, eventually slipping under the bridge and on out to the lake.

“I had no idea,” Ruby spits out. “You’ve not spoken with your father for so long. How dreadful for both of you—really, Eve. You only get one, you know.”

“It’s not my fault he decided to marry that Mormon widow,” I remind her for the zillionth time. “My mom and him…they had such a quiet life…separate bedrooms even. When Mom died, he disappeared, married that woman with all those kids she had, and…well…there just wasn’t room for me. He just disappeared from my life.”

“You could have made an effort, darling, really.”

“I honestly never felt close to him—I know he loved me, but he got involved with her so fast and I guess…I couldn’t quite forgive him. What a nudge I am.”

“Americans are so uptight,” Ruby says. “Do you know my picture-perfect Ed had an affair?” I raise my brows way up. “I’ll never know for sure, but a woman knows. It was years and years ago…I figured it would pass…and it did.”

“Just like that?” I practically screech. “You stayed with him? I mean, you adore him—adored. I can’t believe this.”

Ruby stops walking and looks straight at me. “Look, darling. Life is full of opportunities and choices and—temptations. Things happen and you have to decide to either forgive and move on together or end things and walk away—in different directions.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Life is—darling—it really is.” She gives my arm a squeeze.

“Maybe this belly dancing will loosen me up some.”

“Let’s hope. Good heavens, I’ve not been up into the loft for ever. It was one of Ed’s favorite places to hang. He and Charlie used to fiddle up there for hours.”

I unlatch the small green arched Dutch door, which opens into the barn. Alongside this door is a much larger one that can fold accordion-style when it’s opened. We keep the duck and a ton of our stuff from Eau Claire in here. There’s also a vast collection of things accumulated from over the past hundred years or so, lots of things.

Reaching up to the right, I snap on several switches and the barn is ablaze in light. It’s several stories high; directly in front of us is a workshop area with every tool and gizmo imaginable. In the back corner gapes a wide wooden staircase. We head over toward it.

“Thank God we have this place here,” I comment as we start up the stairs. “’Course, if we didn’t, we maybe wouldn’t have brought so much of our junk.”

“Perhaps next spring we should have an old-fashioned yard sale.”

We’ve stopped on the first tier of steps and are looking down at the vast collection of memories down there. From moose heads and dressers, canoes hanging from the rafters and several pair of snowshoes to lamps and rockers and…

“I’m getting overwhelmed,” Ruby pushes on. “Let’s get a look at this loft.”

“One more staircase,” I say as we head up and around and into a huge open space.

“This is lovely.” Ruby walks toward an old rolltop desk hunched in a corner.

“I snooped around here not too long ago.”

I walk over to the front of the room, which is directly above the huge door downstairs. There’s an enormous window that faces toward the cottage and on out to the lake. It’s breathtaking.

“Ruby, get over here and check out this view.”

She does as she’s told and joins me at my side.

“My, my,” Ruby sighs out. “Isn’t that the loveliest cottage ever?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Now,” Ruby turns back to the room. “Yes, yes, this will be a brilliant spot for us to dance the belly dance, don’t you think, darling?”

“You can see over here.” I walk toward one of the walls and move some stuff out of the way. “It’s all mirrors, they’re just covered with canvas.”

“Well, I’ll be. You know, Ed’s gran, that would be Adeline, she was—of course—now I remember, she was quite the ballet dancer. There are several old photos down at the cottage of her in costume. She was such a beautiful woman. Even in her eighties. Imagine.”

I look over to her and shake my head. “Ruby—you will never age.”

“True darling, so true.”

“I hear the familiar clomping of…” I announce as loud footsteps clamber into the room.

“The boys,” Howard and Johnny declare in a breathy fit of laughter.

“I haven’t been up here in years,” Howard says. “Kind of forgot how big it was.” He wanders over to a canvas-covered table and has a peek underneath. “Johnny, check this out.”

They lift off the heavy canvas and we all gather around.

“Ed had this down at the cottage for the longest time,” Ruby says with a touch of disdain. “It sat off in a corner until he and Charlie, after far too many highballs—truth be told—hauled it up here. It’s very lovely, now that it’s finished, and look, there’s even dishes on the little tables.”

“I remember marveling at this once before,” I say. Reaching down, I snap on several switches and all the miniature homes and cabins light up. Streetlights come to life and even the head-lamps on cars come on. “It must have taken Ed forever to make this model. The entire Madeline Island in miniature. Look, there’s a stand of deer in the road up by our gate.” I point.

“I didn’t know our cottage,” Johnny says, “used to be a log house. There’s a picnic table in the back and the coals in the grill are glowing. Jesus, what detail.”

“Yes,” Ruby explains. “There was a log cabin exactly where your place is now. It burned to the ground long ago.”

“I just love this,” I gush. For some reason old places and their stories fascinate me. “Look, behind the barn is a little cabin. I was wondering about that. Certainly it must be gone.” I point to a cabin hidden away among tall pine trees.

“I have never…” Howard comes over next to me to look. “I didn’t know that was there.”

“That is the original Prévost place,” Ruby loves history lessons. “When Gustave and Adeline first came to the island, that was where they lived for a time, until the main cottage was built. It’s a rather lonely spot, isn’t it?”

“Wow, no kidding,” I add, recalling a story Ruby had told me. “You and Ed got a little creeped out when you peeked into it years ago. I mean, something really weird must have happened ’cause didn’t you tell me the place was like they just washed up the dishes and left?”

“What do you mean?” Johnny asks Ruby, as a dusty Rocky leaps into his arms. “Hey, buddy.” He gives him a squeeze, Rocky farts, and we all move away a step.

I light a match and wave it around.

“Oh, man.” Johnny sets Rocky down like he’s going to break and then gives him a little push away. “What have you been eating?”

“Perhaps, darling—you should ask whom?”

“Sometime,” Howard says, “I’d like to have a look around in there.”

“Me, too,” Johnny adds.

“Me three,” I say. “But today—let’s clear these canvases off all the mirrors and make a space for the future belly dancers!”

“Such a spoilsport,” Ruby fusses. “Always has to bring down the fire a bit, doesn’t she?”

“Get over here and help me with this,” I order. “Johnny dearest, how about winding up that old Victrola over there and get some tunes going.”

“Yes, Eve darling,” Johnny sasses. “Anything for the spoilsport.”

He blows a cloud of dust off a big round platter-sized record (in Howard’s face, no less) and puts it on. Soon good old Edith Piaf is singing “Les Trois Cloches.” That’s according to Johnny; I have no idea what it means, though. But oh, does it sound lovely. Ruby later informs us it’s French for “The Three Bells.” Ding-a-ling.

We clean and tidy and eventually end up with an enormous space and one entire wall of floor-to-ceiling mirrors. There’s even a ballet barre running waist-high through the middle. Not that belly dancers need one, or do they?

The four of us are over at the boys’ cottage, out back on their patio, gathered around a crackling fire they’ve built in one of those Kiva Hut things. It’s a huge clay pot with a chimney going up and a hole in the side for the fire. Darndest thing I’ve ever seen, but it’s putting off a lot of heat, so what do I care? The cool damp air really does seep into your bones.

“This is roughing it,” Johnny comments, refilling our wine goblets. “Hope you like your brats well done, ’cause that’s the only way Howard does them.”

“That’s my favorite,” I say and Ruby agrees. “Thanks for your help today, you guys. Only thing is—now we haven’t any excuse not to get these bodies in shape.”

“I think that”—Johnny pulls over a tree stump on wheels that’s actually a chair of sorts—“Howard and I will keep on with our weight-lifting regime and leave you ladies to the belly bouncing.” I shoot him a look.

“You’ve a gym here, darling? Why, I had no idea.”

“We’ve got a nice setup in the lower level. Not a ton of stuff, but it does the trick. You can use it whenever you want.”

Ruby raises her eyebrows high, takes a puff and sends a perfect smoke ring over toward Johnny. It encircles his face. He flits it away among a barrage of “gross” and “disgusting.”

When he calms down, Ruby says, “How kind of you to offer, but I think we’ll stick to the bouncing.” We giggle.