For twenty minutes they just stood on the sidewalk in front of the Kangaroo gas station across from the Ranch, passing around water bottles and energy bars from a small cooler and squinting into the sun. But then the women must have had some kind of signal, or perhaps they finally verified that the slightly dilapidated motel with no sidewalk in front of it—only a crumbling gravel path—was, in fact, the same Genesis Inspirational Writing Ranch they had read about in the Herald-Tribune. A tall woman with sandy-gray hair nodded at the others, and they hoisted handmade signs that read:

GENE$I$ RANCH, COME CLEAN: WHO ARE YOUR FUNDER$?

INSPIRATIONAL WRITING = ANTICHOICE, ANTIWOMAN AGENDA

LIE DOWN WITH DOGS, WAKE UP WITH FLEAS

GENESIS RANCH JOINS WAR ON WOMEN?

and

SARASOTA SAYS SHAME TO SHADY, SHODDY SCHOOL!

Many of the signs featured photographs of Tad Tucker’s smiling face, circled and slashed through in red marker.

The street was empty, but the women chanted and bobbed their signs up and down as if for a crowd. “Hey hey! Ho ho! These shady schools have got to go!”

Marianne called Eric right away, but he didn’t answer, so she went across the street herself to talk to the protesters. They were actually quite cordial and friendly, and respectfully stopped chanting and set down their signs. Marianne explained that Genesis Inspirational Writing Ranch was not affiliated with Tad Tucker, lamely repeating Regina’s line that none of their revenues had directly funded GWGW’s donations to Preborn America, the supposedly unaffiliated group behind the pro-Tad ad blitz, whose CEO just happened to be Tad’s former chief of staff.

What had Marianne expected in return? That they would say, “Oh, I did not realize that, you’re right, sorry for bothering you”? That they would tear up their signs then and there? Apologize for jumping to conclusions, perhaps ask for a business card or an application form? (At Regina’s suggestion, she had started carrying both at all times.)

“But your funding,” said a short, fiftyish woman wearing a visor festooned with buttons and ribbons for NOW, Planned Parenthood, the ACLU, causes that Marianne herself supported. “Your funding is connected to God’s World God’s Word, is it not?”

Marianne frowned. Should she tell her that in a few days that would all be over? It was tempting, but Eric had cautioned her to keep quiet. When he got here, she decided, she could send him over to speak with them. “We’re just a writing school,” she said. “We don’t make enough money to fund anyone. Trust me.”