“Berta, are you crazy?” Nobody called Roberta “Berta” anymore except Sherri. “You really want to work at the Playboy resort?” Sherri said these words softly, because they weren’t meant to be spoken in a church. The resort opened more than a decade ago and there were still some people in town, mostly older ladies, who couldn’t even talk about the place out loud, while the men would brag openly about owning membership keys to get into the club. They’d take out-of-town visitors there for dinner and drinks, and make it sound like they were friends with Hugh Hefner himself. Between Alpine Valley and the Playboy resort, there were people in town who felt that they lived on the edge of the center of the universe. “You seriously want to work at that place?”

“You know how much money you can make? Thousands—not a month, but in a week. You can save up for your car. Didn’t you always want to move to California?” When they were in middle school, they’d sneak into the Community Hall and play “California Dreamin’” on the jukebox over and over, dancing until they could hardly stand. That was Sherri’s favorite song, because she couldn’t believe there was a place where the weather was nice every day, all year long.

Roberta said, “My interview is next Tuesday at nine. They said to bring heels and a bathing suit. I can call and see if you can come with me.”

“No, that’s OK. That’s not for me.” What Sherri meant was that becoming a Bunny would permanently change her reputation in a small town where your reputation was all you had. Everyone knew you, and they knew your aunts, uncles, grandparents, siblings, and second cousins. Even her relatives in Burlington would get wind of it.

“Oh, come on. What have you got to lose? You can always say no if they want to give you a job. And they have a dorm.”

“You mean we can live there?” Now, that appealed to Sherri. She couldn’t imagine spending another day alone in the apartment she’d shared with her mom. She’d already talked to Jerry Derzon, the town Realtor, about finding someone to buy or lease the building.

“Don’t you want to see what it’s like? What else are you going to do? Let me just ask.”

A few days later, when Roberta called to tell her that she’d arranged for Sherri to join her for the interview, she couldn’t say no—then again, she could never say no to her old friend. The idea of the resort, while “pie in the sky” as her mother would say, offered a nice psychic refuge from the sad work of cleaning Tupperware dishes from the noodle casseroles the church ladies had dropped off and writing thank-you notes for flowers and memorials.