“Just a sec.” Flame struck the final chord. “Do either of you know any Beatles songs? If someone can spell me for a minute, I might be able to find you one.”

“Sorry, Flame.” Grace shook her head. “I never learned to play the piano. You know something about music, don’t you, Paul?”

Paul nodded. “I play the violin, but I am not accomplished at the piano. Jayne attempted to teach me last winter, but I can play nothing of the Beatles except the chorus to ‘Obladi Oblada.’”

“That’ll do.” Flame slid off the bench and motioned to Paul to take her place. “Just play it over and over until I get back. Those jokers will never know the difference, I guarantee it.”

Paul was just winding up his twenty-fifth rendition when Flame came back, sliding over on the piano bench and replacing Paul at the piano. “I got you a great big Arctic Cat. Here’s the address.” She pushed a cocktail napkin across the bar. “It belongs to my boyfriend’s landlady’s cousin.”

Grace pocketed the cocktail napkin and gave the pianist a grateful smile. Flame was just getting into the rocking rhythm of “Honey Pie” when the cocktail waitress rushed over with a note. “You’re going to love this one, Flame. Those guys want to hear ‘Obladi Oblada’ again. They said you played it just the way they like it.”

Grace and Paul were still chuckling as they headed to the parking lot. The sky was beginning to darken, but it was still over eighty degrees on the neon-studded Strip.

“It is summer down here.” Paul opened the window to enjoy the warm night breeze as Grace pulled out of the parking lot and drove toward Henderson. Grace didn’t reply, but she knew exactly what he was thinking. While it was summer in Vegas, it was winter on Deer Creek Road. And they were about to embark on a long cold trip up the mountain.

An hour had passed, and the residents of Deer Creek Condos were beginning to gather at the spa. No one wanted to spend the evening alone and Laureen had organized a potluck dinner.

Jayne had dressed for the occasion in a natural buckskin dress with fringes at the hem and matching moccasins. Paul had called her Pocahontas whenever she wore it. Her hair hung around her shoulders in a curly black cloud and she brushed it back with her hand as she surveyed the tables set up around the pool area. She’d set them with china and silver, even though Paul was no longer here to object to paper plates and plastic utensils. They’d fought over that issue bitterly throughout their marriage. Jayne had stubbornly maintained that picnic ware was perfectly adequate for everyday use while Paul had insisted that dining wasn’t dining unless the food was properly presented. She’d never come out and admit it, but food really seemed to taste better his way.

“Okay, kids. It’s vacation time!” Hal stepped out of the elevator with a pitcher of margaritas. He was wearing his favorite artist-at-home outfit, faded blue jeans and a long-sleeved black sweater. “As long as we’re stuck here for a week, we might as well party.”

“Here’s the chili.” Laureen set a huge pot on the buffet table. She wore slacks with an oversize shocking pink sweater. The sweater was intended to hide her extra weight, but the splash of bright color made her look even larger.

Hal rubbed his hands together. “Okay, we’ve got Laureen’s incredible chili for starters. And Clay’s brought . . .” Hal paused to grin. “Blue chips! That figures.”

Clayton, dressed in chinos and the green and black rugby shirt Rachael had given him for Christmas, looked puzzled as he set down a bowl of blue corn chips. Hal figured he’d better explain. “Isn’t that what you tell your clients to buy? Nothing but blue chips?”

“Oh.” Clayton frowned. “I get it, Hal. Blue-chip stocks. But the connection is a bit tenuous.”

“Here’s the salsa.” Rachael arrived with Vanessa and Moira. “The blue bowl is mild, for you, Clay. The one in the red bowl is dynamite.”

All three women had a distinctive style. Rachael wore her yellow Tai Chi uniform with tire-tread sandals, Moira was impressive in an orange silk caftan which swirled around her ankles, and Vanessa was dressed for a cocktail party in a purple satin minidress that fit like a second skin and huge, dangling gold earrings.

“This is my special fat-free herbal dip.” Vanessa’s high-heeled gold sandals clicked against the tiles as she crossed the room to set a bag of potato chips on the table, along with a bowl of dip. “I know everybody’s watching their weight. Or if they’re not, they should be. You can have all you want because there’s only eighty calories in the whole thing.”

Laureen gave Vanessa a venomous glare. “Unless you count the chips!”

The door to the elevator opened again and Ellen stepped out, carrying the thirty-cup coffeepot. “Where do you want this? It’s all ready to plug in.”

“Over there.” Alan pointed to the ledge by the Jacuzzi. “I rigged an extension cord.”

Vanessa frowned as Ellen plugged in the coffee. “I wish Ellen would wear one of the dresses I helped her pick out. That big old shirt and those awful pants must have come straight from the men’s department. No wonder Johnny dumped her. When I latch on to a really neat guy, I never let him get away.”

“Of course you don’t.” Laureen gave her a withering look. “Parasites always cling to their hosts.”

“I think Ellen did the right thing by cutting Johnny loose.” Jayne jumped in before a full-scale fight could develop. “I like him, don’t get me wrong, but he goes through women like Kleenex. I’m glad Ellen wised up before she got screwed.”

“Maybe that was the problem.” Vanessa giggled. “I don’t think Ellen’s ever been . . .”

Hal put his hand over his wife’s mouth. “Cut it out, Vanessa.”

The elevator doors opened again and Marc stepped out. He was wearing a maroon velour warm-up suit with his monogram, and he carried a large pink bakery box.

“Oh, God!” Laureen moaned. “A pink box. Those yummy pink boxes chase me in my dreams.”

“Sorry, Laureen.” Marc set the box on the table. “I was planning on taking these to my crew this morning, but now you’ll have to help me eat them.”

Laureen lifted the lid and groaned. “Raspberry Danish. There must be three dozen!”

“Thirty-four. I had a couple for breakfast.”

“That means we have to eat three apiece.” Jayne sighed. “I’d better put in my laps now or I’ll sink like a stone. The pool’s all right to use, isn’t it, Marc?”

Marc nodded. They’d discovered a crack in the decorative tile of the pool, but since it was triple-lined, there was no leakage. “You might as well use it. Once we start the repairs, it’ll be down for a while.”

Jayne went off to the cabana to change and Ellen came over to take the empty chair next to Vanessa. Jayne was right; she couldn’t avoid her forever.

“I’m glad you’re all right, Ellen.” Vanessa turned to her with a friendly smile. “I wanted to come up and help when you were stuck under that bench, but they made me go to Betty’s. Everybody figured I’d faint or something.”

Ellen nodded and tried to smile back. It wasn’t fair to blame Vanessa. She’d been only one in the long line of Johnny’s women, but Ellen had been too blind to realize it.

“Let’s fix you up.” Vanessa reached over to open the top three buttons on Ellen’s shirt. “You need to show off your neck, Ellie. It’s your best feature. And that awful denim shirt’s way too big for you. No man’s ever going to look at you twice if you dress like a bag lady.”

Ellen’s first instinct was to pull away, but she didn’t want to cause a scene. Before she could think of a reply, Vanessa had unhooked the gold mesh belt she wore and cinched it around Ellen’s waist.

“Not bad.” Vanessa eyed her critically. “Of course, it’d help if you wore tighter pants, but sloppy’s in this year. A little eye makeup and you’d look right in style.”