“Can we get you anything?” Bob Fairway asked. His mother, Bobbi, was a friend of Cait’s and she was beautiful. She had passed on her looks to her son.

“How about a photo for my uncles?” She held up her phone.

Obligingly, the four men stood side by side and smiled. “No, no. Turn around. Show some skin.”

Laughing, the men turned their bare backs to her and she snapped three shots. “Thanks.” She walked away, looking at the photos. “Uncles be damned,” she said. “I’m keeping these for myself.”

She was still smiling when she got to Forey’s booth. Forey was wrinkled but her eyes were bright and she moved well. Most important, she could still order people about and get them to do what she wanted, all using her old-fashioned, push-button landline. She was often referred to as TB, for Telephone Bully. She was carrying a cake.

“Let me do that.” Mike set the cake on the table with the other baked goods that had been donated by the churches.

“Are you nervous?”

Mike sighed. “Why does everyone think I can’t handle my own mother? Is everything ready on your end?”

Forey gave a knowing smile. “We ask because you and your mother scare all of us.”

“Hilarious.”

Forey smiled broader. “Yes, it’s all been done. House, office, everything.” She tipped her head to one side. “What’s bothering you? I can see it in your eyes. Too many texts? Or not enough? Or are you twittering too much?”

“You’re a real comedian today. If you must know, I talked to Hayes. It seems that he used to be on his university’s archery team. I think he’s bringing his own bow today. He wants to show me how well he can shoot.”

Forey’s smile vanished. “Let him win! Don’t do a Vera and step in and be better than everyone else. Do not show him that you can outshoot everyone in six states. If you want to keep him, let him win. Understand me?”

“That is so last century! Today’s men understand that women are sometimes better at certain things than they are. Women can...” Forey’s look made her trail off. “I didn’t bring my own bow.”

“That’s a start. Now go away. I have work to do.”

With a sigh, Mike turned away.

“I hope you don’t pass out,” Forey called after her. “Those jeans are so tight they must be cutting off your blood.”

Mike turned back and grinned. “Who needs circulation? It took me half an hour to get them on.”

Forey shook her head. “Try to be a lady. In my day, we didn’t—”

“Ha! You want me to believe that you didn’t show off those knockers? No way!”

Forey tried to look shocked but she couldn’t do it. She laughed as she waved her hand for Mike to leave.