“Yeah, well the doctor told him he needs to cut back on red meat. He’s too fat. So what’s your secret, doll? You always look like a million bucks in the bank.” The woman turned to me. “You tell me, is this woman gorgeous or is she gorgeous.”

I nodded. “She is gorgeous.”

Analise rolled her eyes. “Please. You’re embarrassing me.”

The woman was still looking at me. She stuck out her hand. “Terry Mason, just like the old TV show.”

“You mean, Perry Mason?”

“Exactly. How do you do?”

I took her hand, wondering what could be so scandalous about this woman as to curl my toes. “Alan Christoffersen.”

“You visiting or just passing through?”

“Just passing through,” I said.

“Maybe you should stay awhile. The rest of America may be going to heck in a handbasket, but Sidney is a rock in the storm. A jewel in America’s crown.”

“Mr. Christoffersen is walking across the country,” Analise said.

“Oh, Lord. Maybe I should send Ben with you. He’d have to walk from sea to shining sea to get back to his fighting weight.” She turned back to Analise. “What are you cooking tonight, darling?”

“Spaghetti with clam sauce.”

“Well ain’t you fancy, cooking all ee-tal-yun.”

“It’s one of Emeril’s recipes.”

“Well you know I love Emeril on occasion, but give me Paula Deen any day. That woman ain’t afraid of butter.”

Analise laughed. “No, she’s not. That will be six forty-nine.”

“Here you go,” she said, handing her a bill.

“Out of ten. That’s three and fifty-one back.”

“Keep the penny in that little dish, honey.”

“Okay.”

“Casey’s diarrhea under control?” Terry asked.

Analise blushed. “Yes. Has been for some days.”

“Did you try carrot soup? Carrot soup and brown rice works wonders with the squirts. But so does turmeric.”

“She’s fine. I just got some Imodium.”

“That works too. Tell Christian not to forget to bring his kerchief to the pack meeting, we’re making kerchief rings. Have a good night.” She turned back to me. “You too, Mr. Christensen. I wish you well on your walk.”

“Thank you,” I said, smiling a little.

She walked out. Analise sighed. “Like I was saying, Mr. Christensen. There are no secrets in Sidney.”

“Clearly.”

At five minutes after six another woman walked into the store. She was younger than Analise, and wore tight Wrangler jeans and an open shirt with a tube top underneath. “Sorry I’m late, Lise. Rush-hour traffic.”

“Rush hour in Sidney’s a bear,” Analise said. “Don’t worry about it. Ciao.”

“Have a good night,” the young woman said to Analise, glancing at me suspiciously.

“Let’s go,” Analise said. She picked up her purse and a plastic bag with groceries.

“May I help you with that?” I asked.

“Thanks.”