She joined me on the edge of the bed and squeezed my hand. “And I’m grateful. Thank you for coming.” Extra wetness swam in Libba’s eyes and she sniffed.

How many gin and tonics had she drunk on that dock without me? Gin made her weepy. There was no other explanation for the threatening tears. We needed a new subject. Quickly. “What does Perry think of the managing-partner tiff?” Perry, Thatch, and Graham were partners in the same firm.

She snorted. “You'll have to ask him.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What do you know?”

“Nothing.” She spoke too quickly and studied her watch with more attention than the time deserved. “Charlie promised he'd be here by six. Shall we walk up to the parking lot and meet him?”

What wasn’t she telling me? I could badger her. Or I could ask Liz. One option promised aggravation, the other did not. I let Libba’s avoidance stand. “Let me turn on the air, then we can go.” I rose from my spot on the bed and pressed a button.

The window unit roared to life. Jet engines were quieter.

“Ready.”

“You’re wearing that?” Libba frowned her disapproval.

I frowned back. I’d kept quiet about her halter dress’s scandalously deep vee, its color, and its lurid pattern (purple, blue and green paisleys). How dare she question the peasant skirt I’d paired with a scoop neck tee-shirt and cowboy boots? “I am.”

“Okay, Annie Oakley.”

“You say that now, but if we see a snake, you’ll regret those sandals.”

“We won’t see any snakes. They avoid people. Now, come on.” Libba tugged my elbow and held up her empty glass. “We can stop by my cabin for refills on our way.”

We stepped outside.

“Ellison,” called Sumner. She and Graham had the cabin next to ours. “How was shooting?”

I turned toward the last cabin in the row, and Sumner smiled at us. Like Libba she held an empty old-fashioned.

“Shooting was fine.” I couldn’t exactly tell her that Graham and Thatch had taunted each other like children on a playground. “But it was hot, I came back thirsty.”

Libba lifted her empty glass. “We need more gin, and Ellison forgot her bottle. She was drinking water when I arrived at her cabin.”

Sumner stared owlishly, as if Libba had imparted deep wisdom. “One can’t travel without gin. And you—” she pointed at me “—need to catch up.”

“Catch up with Libba?” I scoffed. “Libba could drink our husbands under the table.”

Libba preened as if her hollow leg was a point of pride.

Sumner giggled. And tilted.

Only Graham’s sudden appearance and his grip on his wife’s arm kept her from falling. He offered me a wry smile. “Seems as if we missed quite a party at the dock.”

“So I see.”