Well, as you can imagine, Ruby is looking at me with different eyes now, almost studying me. I suppose to see any resemblance to Ed. When I last saw him, he was very ill and had salt-and-pepper hair, which needed attention at the time, but no curls, no similar nose or teeth or…The reason I mention the color is because she’s trying her darndest to find something in me that’s his. I’m not about to remind her, however, that I do have salt-and-pepper hair underneath this color.

She’s hauled out all sorts of photos of the younger Ed, say forty years younger, and we both agree that at least my brain is similar to his—I am brilliant. I honestly look most like my mother—same eyes, hair, lips, height (lack thereof), so it’s mostly her wanting to connect us that’s spurring her on. I’m just relieved as hell that she doesn’t simply resent me, me being the “love child.” It certainly has put me in a weird position anyway.

Here I am, in my dad’s cottage, and he never once even so much as walked by my salon, that I know of—so maybe he did. Then again, maybe my mom made him promise to stay away. Those questions I do have to let go of since everyone’s dead. I wonder if Sam could help? Hmmm.

I have to stand back and look at who honestly was my dad. It wasn’t really Ed. Oh, he planted the proverbial seed and all, but the man that has/was/is my dad is good old Larry. He did the very best he could and it’s selfish of me to expect anything more from him than I got. I mean, the man stuck it out in that tension-filled house until my mother passed away, for heaven’s sake, and what do I do to thank him? Nothing—not a damn thing—I was such a jerk. Sometimes it takes a jolt to the heart to open your mind.

We rang in the New Year in a big way. The boys built a huge bonfire over at their place and we had s’mores until our stomachs ached. They’ve taken to referring to me as “the sin child.” It could be worse, and as I said to Ruby, at least now I’m not the bastard child. Her acceptance of this entire ordeal is pretty amazing. When I explained the latest findings of “Who’s Eve’s daddy?” to Helen, her screeching could be heard across the kitchen. Ruby laughed so hard, she broke two fingernails smacking her hand on the countertop.

It’s now mid-January and the lake is almost, but not quite, frozen. Since the ice is too thin to drive a car on and too thick for the ferry (as well as our duck), we have to rely on the Windsled.

“Good heavens.” Ruby ducks her head. “Are you sure this thing is safe?”

“There’s all these kids,” I mention, scooting beside her on the built-in bench. “Now move over—I can’t imagine that they’d let children on here if it didn’t work, would they?”

“I’ve only heard mention of this Windsled thingie,” Ruby mentions. “Such a shame we can’t simply hammer some metal onto the duck’s hull and be ice-worthy—my—they’re packing us in here like sardines!”

“If we don’t make it across alive,” I add, “I’ve heard that drowning in ice-cold water can be rather pleasant.”

“Oh how lovely,” Ruby says with a great deal of oomph. “At least this way, when we get to Maggie’s restaurant, we can have a drink and jolly well not be concerned about driving home a bit dodgy!”

A little boy comments to his friend how the pretty lady sure speaks funny and Ruby gives him one of her “looks.” He melts into submission and mutters an apology.

“Children,” Ruby stage-whispers. “Even the handsome ones can be such a frustration.” She elbows me and we giggle.

The canvas is then pulled over us all, the motor revs to life, and even yelling at each other is of no use. This thing is loud. It’s hard to describe. Basically it’s a boat; its bottom is all steel to handle the ice and it’s powered by an enormous propeller in the back that literally blows us along. I’m excited and really relieved that at least there’s this sled-thing available for emergency lunches. One must lunch, you know. Besides, Helen wanted to get out of Duluth and we needed to get off the island.

The ride is rough, as we have to break through some of the ice, then other times we zoom along on the surface on top of the ice. Ice is a major obsession on the island during the time the ferry can’t get over.

Way quicker than I ever could have imagined, we’re pulling up to Bayfield. A woman with a really long black ponytail that swings to and fro pulls back the canvas and helps us disembark.

“My legs are feeling plucky,” Ruby comments. “Give me your arm, darling, would you?” We loop arms and hobble up the shoveled sidewalk.

“That was fun!” I comment and Ruby snorts.

“It was lovely,” Ruby says, a bit out of breath, “of the crew to give us the day off, don’t you think?”

“Is it me, or is everyone—including the boys—looking at us like we’ve got loogies hanging from our noses? I walked in on Sam and Lilly whispering about something and they never do that, I mean, without us joining in.”

“I’ve never had loogies hanging from my nose and perhaps they all are simply as stunned as we are. It’s still got my head spinning, to think your mum and Ed—it’s simply astounding, don’t you think?”

“I think that this bookstore”—I reach up and clear away snow and ice to peek in a window—“should not be closed so damn much. Maybe when the ice road goes in, we could take a spin down to Washburn and check out the one down there. What was it called…something Indian, I think.”

“Oh, yes.” Ruby roots around in her purse, then reads a business card, “Chequamegon Book Company. What a difficult name, for heaven’s sake.” She lights a cigarette and we wander by the store next door, which is also closed.

“Thank goodness Stone’s Throw sells CDs,” I mention, taking a puff from her cigarette. “I’d like to get Connie Evingson’s new one and it seems to me that the woman in there had a bunch.”

“I honestly don’t recall. I do recall that dog of hers. I’ve never been licked to death like that. I hate to imagine where that tongue’s been—disgusting.”

We continue on up Manypenny Avenue toward Maggie’s restaurant.

“Thank God this place stays open through the winter.” I pull open the door and we walk into pink flamingo land. The food smells are divine and my mouth immediately waters. “Hey—there’s Helen over in our favorite booth. C’mon, girl.”

Helen’s beauty still takes me by surprise. Her blond hair is in a French twist, with light makeup, and she’s wearing the blue sweater Rocky gave her for Christmas. We hug all around and then settle in.

“You two look so mother-daughter,” Helen comments and then thinks again. “Oh, wait a minute, Eve’s the—”

“Result of my husband’s oversexual, lecherous advances upon Eve’s weak, lonely mum,” Ruby dryly comments, enjoying Helen’s reaction. “It’s a true study in the secret swingers world of academia.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” I sigh. “I need a glass of wine.”

“Me, too,” Ruby and Helen say together and we all laugh.

A plump woman with major mall bangs swings by and offers us the wine list and rattles off the lunch specials. Her smile is a dazzler, and when she asks us if we’re all related, Ruby explains.

“Actually, in one way or another, we are related, but trust me, darling, it would take the better part of the week to explain all the ins and outs and—”

“We’d like three glasses of this pinot grigio,” I add and the waitress disappears. “You are in a mood today, missy! Must have been the ride over.” I explain the Windsled to Helen and she wants to ride in it sometime.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Helen offers. “I told Ryan about the picture and—everything. Did you bring it, by any chance?”

“I think I’m going to wear it out.” I pull it from my purse and hand it over.

“Your mother is so young. I certainly see who’s to blame for our curly hair, and look at the way she’s got one hand on her hip, just like you do.”

“Actually,” Ruby comments dryly, “she normally has both hands on both hips, especially when she’s ordering me about.”

I grin, shake my head and sigh—again. This little ribbing thing Ruby’s into is her way of letting me know she’s also having a time with this. But the initial shock is over—I hope.

“And Larry,” Helen continues with her observations. “God, he was one of my professors—I digress, sorry, it’s just that we’re all so connected. Now Ed here, notice how he towers over your mother, the way he’s got his arm around her.” Helen looks toward Ruby; she waves her hesitation away. “Sorry, it just looks so, proprietary. I love the way they’re both dressed, very fifties. God, this is so weird.”

The waitress plunks down our glasses and we don’t even clink, just slurp.

“Much better.” Ruby sets her empty wineglass down and signals for another round. “I think we may drink our appetizers, ladies, and why shouldn’t we? Now turn the photo over and let’s get to the real dirt here.” She looks at me and winks.

Helen reads the note out loud; I know it by heart so I mouth the words along with her. “‘My dear Maxine…I love your mother’s name—sorry.” Helen starts again.”

“What a louse,” Ruby offers. “Though I couldn’t be more thrilled, I mean, I wouldn’t have my best friend and, oh dear, this is such a strange world—isn’t it?” She sheds a tear; I put my arm around her and give her a quick squeeze.

“Would you have divorced him?” Helen asks. “I mean, if you’d known he had—did you know he was having an affair?”

“Of course I did.” Ruby finishes her second glass and I’m not far behind. “Every woman knows if their husband’s having an affair, but I had an entire life with him already and, well, I honestly knew he’d outgrow it. I’d hoped so—the double louse.”

“They’re not all louses,” Helen says with such a dear look on her face. “Are they? I mean…I don’t think that Ryan is, and—he better not cheat on me because—ta-da!” She extends her hand out to us to show off her sparkly diamond ring.

We do the only natural thing one does in this kind of a situation—we clap and scream like HELL!!!

“I have been bursting,” Sam admits with a big grin, “to tell you all that this good news was coming. I have been talkin’ Lilly’s ear right off on account of not wanting to spoil the surprise and all. Nothing like a spring wedding for that Helen, no sir.” Lilly hands her a fistful of half-finished aprons and they both smile.

“I’ve needed a diversion,” I stage-whisper as Ruby’s in the potty. “Finding out about Ed and my mom has made us both feel a little strange.”

“Good thing you’re such good friends,” Lilly lisps. “Nothing can ruin a friendship more than a—”

“Double louse for a husband,” Ruby tosses out on her way into the workroom. “I should think we—namely I—need to clear the air, so to speak.” She comes over behind my cutting table, adjusts her lace collar, gives her hair a dramatic pat and then “a-hems” her throat. “I’ve thought a great deal about this and seeing as all of you are family and…I honestly can now say that I’m very very grateful my Ed and Eve’s mum found one another and gave me—Eve.” Ruby snivels a bit and so do I. She looks into my eyes. “I know this is terribly dodgy of me, but I have not an ounce of hard feelings, only gratitude for my dear Eve.”

We hug. Sam does her loud whistle, Lilly cheers, and Johnny and Howard give each other a major hug. Can you believe this woman?

After this little love fest, we simmer down a bit and dig back into our routine. I mean, we do have apron orders to fill and there’s nothing better for the soul than zipping an electric shears through this polka-dot fabric. Ruby turns up the music, Dionne Warwick is singing “Theme from Valley of the Dolls,” and it reminds me of something.

“Since there’s all this love,” I comment over Sam’s humming, “I’ve been thinking that I’d like you all to consider something.”

“Girl,” Sam drawls out, taking a stack of apron parts from me, “I’ll tell you right out—we ain’t related.”

I shake my head. “Be grateful for that…no, I want to create a place for teenage mothers to be while they decide what they want to do with their babies…a home is what I’m seeing—not a convent!”

“Shame that little cabin out back isn’t modernized a bit more,” Ruby comments.

“Actually, it’d have to be on the mainland,” Johnny offers. “I mean, in case you needed a hospital or something and aren’t there a million regulations?”

I shrug my shoulders and zoom through some fabric, thinking. “I want to give back something and I also would really like to—to make it such that if an underage pregnant girl really wanted to keep her baby, she’d get the help. I’d like it to be more of an equal playing field, for lack of better words.”

“Do you think”—Lilly adjusts her bifocals—“there’s much demand for such a place?”

“When I used to work over at that Wal-Mart in Ashland…” Sam revs her machine. “I can’t tell you how many young things I saw with bellies sticking three feet out. Babies havin’ babies—there’s a need—I sure can tell you that.” On she sews.

“God forbid we teach birth control,” Howard adds on his way from the back.

“I don’t want to run it,” I add. “Just make sure it’s out there, that there’s this place.”

“Can’t imagine the government would want anything to do with it,” Ruby says, “so it would have to be funded. One must have money to have a proper home and wouldn’t you need midwife people about as well?”

“Marsha’s daughter!” Lilly yells. Rocky leaps off my table and then the room falls silent. “She’s a nurse and is looking for a job up here.”

“Hmmm.” I put down my shears and head to the phone.

Several weeks have snuck by, and boy, are things moving! I will never get over the fact that when you point your mind in a new direction, you better get ready—’cause, girl (as only Sam can say), ain’t no moss under that Eve’s feet, no sir. None.

“Do you honestly think”—Ruby passes me a steaming platter of roasted vegetables—“that Alice Anne is capable of putting this together? She seems a child herself.”

“Hey”—I raise my eyebrows high—“she was in downtown Detroit working in an inner-city emergency room. She can handle pregnant teenagers.”

“I hadn’t realized. Marsha must be simply thrilled to have her daughter back.”

“They’re living together in that tiny place Marsha rents in LaPointe. I can tell it’s getting old so Alice Anne is really jumping into this idea.”

“Eve Moss.” Ruby lifts her goblet. “To our new adventure.”

We clink and sip. “Now all we have to do is come up with a house, some staff, and of course—money.”

“You are looking at a professional fund-raiser, darling.” Ruby holds her head a bit higher. “Truth-be-told, Howard and I have been exploring that Internet and are compiling a list to go over with you. I also have engaged the services of a realtor friend of Lilly’s and Sam’s ringing everyone she can think of to get some starter cash.”

My mouth drops—it really is open wide. “I don’t know what…” I stammer.

“Eve, darling.” Ruby’s voice is full of emotion—strength, too. “Sometimes all you have to do is ask for help. These people—our people—this lot we’ve surrounded ourselves with—we need this.”

“You will never stop surprising me.”

“I most certainly hope not. Now let’s finish with supper and crack open that fresh box of B.T. McElrath chocolates.”

“Where’d you get them from?”

“You think you’re the only one ordering things from the Internet? You’ve so much to learn, dear.”

“No kidding.”