“We thought she’d never get married,” Aunt Marvina said.

“And then, remember that time when she was nine,” Mabel said, “and she wrote that awful word on the front door of Campbell School?”

Aunt Marvina clapped her hand to her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. “That was terrible.” She looked at Hank, her eyes crinkled at the memory. “We were surprised she even knew a word like that, but then Maggie was always surprising us.”

“I wrote that word on a dare,” Maggie said. “And I went back later to wash it off.”

Mabel buttered a biscuit. “It wouldn’t wash off,” she told Hank. “They had to paint the door. And we had to pay for the paint.”

Maggie’s aunt was right. Maggie was full of surprises, Hank thought. It was easy to imagine her as the neighborhood tomboy. And she didn’t seem to be so different now. She probably still punched men in the nose. Something he should keep in mind.

“So what else did Maggie do?”

Maggie glared a warning to Hank and her mother. “I’m sure everyone is finding this very boring.”

“Not me,” Linda Sue said.

Holly Brown sipped her water. “I want to know more.”

“This is good pot roast,” Mabel said. “And no lumps in the mashed potatoes. You see,” she said to Aunt Marvina, “all she needed was to get married. Now she can even cook.”

“Wrong,” Maggie said. “I still can’t cook. We have a house keeper. She made the meal.”

“A house keeper.” Mabel was clearly impressed. “That’s very nice, but what will you do all day if you don’t have to cook and clean?”

“I told you. I’m writing a book about Aunt Kitty.”

Mabel sucked in some air. “A book about Aunt Kitty. That’s craziness. Aunt Kitty was a…you know what. Why do you have to write a book that’s filled with S-E-X? How will I ever be able to show my face at Wednesday night bingo?”

Linda Sue’s eyebrows shot up under her bangs. “You’re writing a dirty book?”

“My Great-aunt Kitty was a madam,” Maggie explained to Linda Sue and Holly. “She left me her diary, and I’m using it as the basis for a book.”

“Wow, hot stuff,” Holly said. “This should put Skogen on the map.”

Harry Mallone had turned a deep shade of vermilion. He had his hand wrapped around his fork and his knuckles were white. “Over my dead body,” he said.

Helen Mallone patted her husband’s hand. “Watch your blood pressure, Harry.”

Maggie thought her mother-in-law didn’t look especially concerned about Aunt Kitty’s diary. Helen Mallone was amazingly calm. In fact, there was an unnerving peacefulness about her.

Helen caught Maggie staring. “I’ve survived Hank’s adolesence,” Helen explained. “The rest of my life will be child’s play. And now he’s your responsibility, dear.” She sank back into her seat with a look of enviable serenity.

Hank grinned. “I wasn’t that bad.”

Linda Sue fanned herself with her napkin. “Honey, you were the scourge of Skogen.”

Maggie’s heart did a little tap dance. The scourge of Skogen? What sort of man was she living with? Sexy, she decided. Too sexy. She thought about the kiss in the upstairs hall and promised herself it wouldn’t happen again. He was one of those men who collected women like other men collect stamps or coins. Two of his women were sitting at the table. Probably if she looked out the front window she’d see a hundred more camped out on the lawn.

She felt herself flush hot and looked over at Hank. He was watching her, and he was smiling. The scourge of Skogen knew when a woman was attracted to him, she thought. That was undoubtedly one of the things that made him such a scourge.

She took a deep breath, relaxed her shoulders, and sent Hank a warning smile. “All that’s in the past,” she said. “Hank’s a married man. His scourging days are over. Isn’t that right, dumpling?”

“That’s right, sweetcakes,” Hank said. “I do my scourging at home now.”

Maggie felt the smile tighten on her face. This was going to be a long six months if she was going to have to ward off his scourging every day. She’d never put up with much from the male population of Riverside, but then she’d never been swept off her feet by any of them. No one had ever made the earth move when they kissed her. No one until Hank. It was going to be tough to resist the advances of a man who had the potential to fulfill every fantasy she’d ever had.

Helen Mallone turned to Maggie’s mother. “Sounds like a marriage made in heaven.”

“Yeah,” Linda Sue said, “sounds like they deserve each other.”

Maggie didn’t think that sounded especially flattering.

“Goodness,” Mabel said to Maggie, “you look just like your Grandfather Toone when your eyes get all beady and glittery like that.”

“It’s true,” Aunt Marvina said. “Your Grandfather Toone had a short fuse. If some poor soul was dumb enough to insult your Grandfather Toone, your Grandfather Toone would haul off and rearrange the man’s face. He had some temper, didn’t he, Mabel?”

Linda Sue’s eyes got wide. “Holy cow,” she said to Maggie, “you aren’t a face rearranger like your grandfather, are you?”

“Don’t worry about Maggie,” Hank said to Linda Sue. “We decided now that she’s a married woman she’d go easy on the violent stuff. She’s even agreed to stop mud wrestling.”

Holly’s mouth fell open. “Do you really mud wrestle?”

“She was the best,” Hank answered. “She was the Central Jersey Mud Wrestling Queen.”

Maggie shot out of her seat. “Hank Mallone, I’d like to see you in the kitchen, please.”

“She’s got that look again,” Linda Sue said. “I bet she’s going to hit him.”

Maggie swished through the kitchen door and closed it behind her. “Mud wrestling? Mud wrestling? Don’t you think this dinner has gotten far enough out of hand?”

“I thought you’d be pleased. I told them you were the best.”

She had him by the shirtfront. “This is serious!” she yelled. “Your parents think I’m a reformed mud wrestler!”

“Calm yourself,” Hank said. “I’ve decided to make my parents think I’ve reformed you. Then they’ll really think I’m stable.” He massaged her shoulders. “You have to learn how to relax. Look at you…you’re entirely too tense.”

He was right, she realized. She was tense. And probably she’d overreacted. Certainly her mother and Aunt Marvina would set everyone straight. No one would seriously believe she was a mud wrestler. It was absurd.

“You’re right,” she said. “Silly me. Probably the dinner’s going better than I think. Just because your father can’t relax his grip on his fork is no reason to think things aren’t going well.”

“Exactly. My father’s knuckles always turn white when he eats.”

“And there are a lot of positive things to be said about this dinner party,” she continued. “No one’s gotten sick. No one’s insisted we have the marriage annulled. That’s a good sign, isn’t it?”

“You couldn’t ask for much more than that.”

“And my mother hasn’t even brought out my baby pictures…the ones where I’m mashing green beans into my hair. She hasn’t mentioned Larry Burlew or the time I had to stay after school for two weeks in the second grade for chewing gum. She hasn’t told anybody about how I drove the Buick into Dailey’s Pond or how I got locked in Greenfield ’s Department Store overnight.”

She looked over her shoulder at the closed kitchen door. “Of course, it’s still early. She’s only just arrived.” She chewed on her lower lip. “I should never have left the room. That’s like an open invitation in Riverside. You leave the room and you’re road kill.”

Hank looked at her more closely. “Something wrong with your eyebrow?”

“Why do you ask?”

“It’s twitching.”

“Oh no! Oh, that’s just great.” She slapped her hand over half of her face. “Now on top of everything else your parents will know I’m a twitcher. Tell me the truth. Do you think this could get any worse?”

Aunt Marvina’s voice carried in from the dining room. “For goodness sakes, it’s Fluffy! And she’s skulking around looking scared to death.”