Fear of Frying

enough to suggest that she looked like death warmed over and should be home in bed. Instead, she said, “This is a wonderful meal! Surely you don’t eat this well here all the time.”
    Allison smiled and suddenly looked much younger and healthier. “As a matter of fact, we do, most of the time. The county junior college offers a culinary degree as part of their hotel management course. We usually have an intern here, getting credit hours for practical experience. We don’t have to pay them much, but the grocery bills are pretty high sometimes. Every once in a while we get one who would like to specialize in seafood preparation, which can be pretty expensive. I like it best when we have a pastry enthusiast.”
    Jane gasped and turned to Shelley. “Do we have a cooking school anywhere near us?”
    Allison laughed. “You didn’t when we lived there.“
    “You lived near us?“
    “Yes. That’s why we thought of contacting your city council and school board instead of someone else. I noticed your address and Mrs. Nowack’s when you signed in. Your street backs up to that vacant field, doesn’t it? Is it still vacant?“
    “Yes. And my cats love it that way. I think they’d buy the land if they had any money.“
    “We were supposed to have a new house built there,“ Allison said. “Then the builder got in trouble and went bankrupt, as you know. That’s when we decided to move up here. We’d already sold the house we lived in and we’d been visiting this resort for years. On a whim, Benson called the owner and asked if there was any chance he’d sell. To our astonishment, he was not only willing, but eager. So here we are.“
    “It’s a beautiful area,“ Jane said. “But it’s awfully remote. Don’t you get lonely?“
    “Never,“ Allison said emphatically. “For one thing, there are guests here about nine months out of the year, and I’ve met some fascinating people. And the rest of the time, Edna and Benson are the best companions a person could want. I have lots of projects, too. I make quilts and afghans and we’ve got a satellite dish, so there are always movies to watch on television. And I’ve got a computer and correspond with quilters and resort owners all over the world.”
    This led to a discussion of E-mail, usenets, the World Wide Web, and a promise to get together the next day so that Allison could show Jane some nifty places to visit via computer and modem and check out the irritating error message Jane got on her laptop occasionally. A half hour earlier, Jane had been pitying Allison. Now she was very nearly jealous of her. What a full, satisfying life Allison Titus lived out in the wilds.
    “Is anybody but me an unrepentant smoker?“ Al asked the group when they’d finished eating.
    Jane and Edna admitted as much and walked down to the road to indulge themselves well away from Bob Rycraft’s more-in-pity-than-in-anger gaze. Al brought along a tin can with a half inch of water in it to serve as an ashtray. They found a log to sit on and Edna said, “Al, what do you do for a living?“
    “I work for a bank,“ he said.
    “Oh? I used to work at a bank as a teller when I was young. What do you do there?“
    “I’m the president,“ he said with a grin.
    Edna and Jane simultaneously yelped with laughter.
    Al looked embarrassed. “Well, it’s a really small bank.”
    They smoked in companionable silence for a few minutes, then returned to the group just as Benson was unveiling a pineapple-upside-down cake that had been cooking in one of the reflector ovens. Almost everyone protested that they were too full to eat any more; well, maybe just a bite or two. The cake disappeared at an alarming rate.
    “What a lot of stuff you’ve got to carry back,“ Jane said to Benson.
    “We’ll just take back the food tonight. The boys will come back for all the cooking utensils in the morning. They’re too hot to carry around now,“ he said with a satisfied grin. His party had been a great success.
    The young men, who had already packed up most of the leftover food, now dragged out a banjo and a guitar and prepared to entertain them. They played a couple folk-song-sounding numbers that Jane didn’t recognize, but liked, and then began to play “Bridge Over Troubled Waters.”
    To nearly everyone’s astonishment, Sam Claypool started singing with them. He had an amazingly good voice. The young men kept playing and quit singing in honor of the superior performer. When the last