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“I’m a good roommate, I’m quiet, and I don’t snore. There are other women here you can—”
    “Roommate?” Ann said the word as if it was something foul she ate.
    “Cabin-mate. We have our own bedrooms.” And then as Ann sagged into relief, Cindy couldn’t help adding, “But the walls are practically cardboard, so there’s not much privacy.
    Need help with your cases?”
    “No thanks.”
    “You sure?”
    “I’m fine on my own.”
    “Hey, none of us is fine on our own or we wouldn’t be here.” She said it breezily, and laughed at her own joke. Ann didn’t join in. Ann must have been through much worse man-stuff than Cindy had.
    Another car moved into the driveway. Cindy said a cheery good-bye and left Ann in her cherished aloneness to struggle with her heavy-looking suitcases over the bumpy grassy terrain, instead of accepting help from a potential friend.
    Whatever.
    This car looked more promising. A Hyundai, with a few small rust spots. Maybe this person would be gladder to see Cindy. If her name turned out to be Martha or Dinah, then she’d be in their cabin too.
    The car pulled in cautiously, then the driver switched off the engine, which seemed fairly huffy about being switched As Good As It Got
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    off because it jolted and knocked a few times before accepting its fate.
    Cindy waited, craning her neck to see. The driver’s door squawked open. A spiky brown head of hair emerged, followed by a large slow-moving body wrapped in a faded purple, yellow, and black shawl that jingled.
    “Hi there.” Cindy waved and moved closer, holding out her hand for a shake.
    The woman had striking features. Light eyes that bulged slightly, long lashes that pointed down over them, a small sharp nose, and a cupid’s bow mouth. Her skin was very pale and fine-pored, but she had a natural blush that kept her from looking corpselike. Her age was hard to guess, with the fat smoothing out any wrinkles. She looked sad, and a little freaked out, and didn’t respond to Cindy’s greeting or offer to shake hands.
    “I’m Cindy.” She found herself speaking clearly and gently, in case the woman was mentally challenged or deaf, or not a native English speaker.
    The woman nodded and looked back into her car as if it might offer her the chance to escape. “I’m Martha. Danvers.”
    “Oh, Martha! How great! You’re in my cabin.”
    Martha looked startled instead of pleased. Maybe Cindy’s enthusiasm seemed over the top, but when you came to a strange place at a difficult time in your life, the people sharing your cabin were sort of like family, or would become that way. At least, that’s how she looked at it.
    Apparently, Martha didn’t.
    “Do you want me to help you with your suitcases?”
    Martha took in what appeared to be the largest breath 38 Isabel
    Sharpe
    Cindy had ever seen anyone take in. Then she blew it out for what seemed equally like forever. Cindy waited. Slapped at a mosquito on her arm. Scratched another bite on her leg . . .
    “I only have one. One suitcase.”
    Whew! Cindy had started to think she wasn’t going to answer at all. “Oh, good for you. I really envy people who know how to pack light. I didn’t know what to bring, so I ended up bringing everything.”
    Martha’s mouth turned up wryly. “So did I.”
    On cue, a sea gull shrieked laughter out on the bay. Cindy cringed. “Oh. Well, I’m really silly about shopping. Nothing ever seems to look right, and instead of wiping everything out and building a sensible coordinating wardrobe, I just keep buying pieces here and there and hoping I come up with something.” She gestured disparagingly at her comfortable clothes. “So far no good, huh.”
    Martha didn’t answer. She must be in a lot of pain too.
    Cindy wasn’t exactly having the time of her life either, but at least she could be pleasant.
    “Where are you from, Martha?”
    “Vermont.”
    “Oh?”
    A nod. End of that story, apparently.
    Okay, so this wasn’t going to