“Selma Koules,” she said, holding out her hand limply in a way that made men unsure whether or not she wanted them to kiss it.

He kissed it.

She smiled to herself. He would be too easy, if she wanted him.

“Lazlo Patterson,” he said.

Selma’s scalp tightened at the name. A strange reaction, she mused. It felt almost like panic, or maybe fear, the kind of disorienting fear you feel when you’re lost. “I’ve heard of you,” she said, taking her hand away.

“And yet I know nothing about you. I don’t think that’s fair.”

He thought he was smooth. And to anyone else, he probably was. He was good. But she was better. Huddled nearby under the shade of one of the umbrellas was a severe, unhappy soul with two unfortunate-looking young women by her side. They were shooting daggers with their eyes at Selma. Those had to be his wife and daughters. It was provocation enough to want to toy with them, but it felt so obligatory. Maybe she was just tired. She saw Bulahdeen sitting at a picnic table near the sign, chatting easily with some people from town. She was reaching behind her and untying the sign as she talked. Selma found herself hoping the old woman would wave and all but force Selma over, to include her in some way.

“I’m buying this property, you know,” Lazlo said.

Without looking at him, she said, “Oh, I know.”

“I’m going to do great things with it.”

“I’m sure you will.”

“Let me walk you around. I’ll show you. It’s awfully crowded here, anyway.”

She turned to him and hesitated. Finally, she smiled and said, “I’m all yours.”

“I should be so lucky.”

As soon as he turned and led her away from the lawn, her smile dropped. She would turn it on when he faced her again, but she didn’t want to leave it on in the interim. She felt like her battery was low on charge. When he led her by the dock, to the wooded trail around the lake, she slowed to a stop. He walked ahead a few steps.

On the dock was that child with the unusual sense of dress and glasses. She was on her stomach, looking down into the water, obviously waiting for the alligator she talked so much about. Her whole world was in a bubble, shimmering around her in the sun. The light from it almost blinded Selma, but she couldn’t look away.

She was getting soft.

The sooner this place sold, the better, as far as she was concerned. She had gotten too attached to it. And women like her knew the danger of attachment.

“Are you coming, beautiful?”

She was a little disgusted by him, she realized, but she sauntered over to him anyway. “The best things are worth waiting for.”

*   *   *