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are!” Pat materialized out of the darkness before Lynn could reply. She looked from one to the other of them, beaming, completely oblivious to the atmosphere. “And Jess too! That’s perfect! We’re dividing into groups to sing in rounds. Come on, we need you!”
    “Count me out,” Jess said with a shake of his head, his expression relaxing into an easy smile. “I’ve got the singing voice of a frog. And I’ve got chores to do too, if you ladies want to make it to Mount Lovenia tomorrow.”
    “Oh, I can’t wait! I’ve got my camera in my saddlebag, in case we see an eagle!” Pat sounded ecstatic at the prospect.
    “Believe me, we will, sooner or later. Excuse me.” With a smile and a nod for Pat and an unreadable glance for Lynn, Jess took off. Lynn found herself being dragged toward the campfire by Pat.
    “I have to tell you, I watch you on the news every night. You are so good at what you do! And Katie is so envious of Rory for having a mother who’s on TV,” Pat said, her hand curled around Lynn’s arm so that there was no evading her.
    “Is she?” Lynn gave up on trying to get away. Obviously, if Pat wanted her to join the group, she was going to join the group. Without resorting to outright rudeness there was no hope of escape. “Believe me, Rory is envious of Katie for having a mom who stays home all the time.”
    “Kids.” Pat shook her head, her smile rueful. “Isn’t that the way of it? With them the grass is always greener.”
    It was a moment of connection, mother to mother. Lynn found herself liking Pat, and she smiled back at her even as she was pushed down on a hay bale in the midst of the assembled group. It was nice to know that Katie didn’t think her mother was so perfect either.
    It was almost an hour later when Lynn finally managed to creep away. The strains of “This Old Man,” sung in rounds, followed her as she fled.
    You’ll enjoy sing-alongs by the campfire.…
    Remembering the wording in the brochure was starting to drive Lynn nuts. How could anything sound so much better in print than it was in reality?
    A high-domed tent, positioned a short distance from the others, had been set up as the women’s shower. Extracting her towel and the sweat suit she meant to sleep in from the rest of her gear, Lynn emerged from her tent and headed toward the shower, careful to skirt the firelight. They had moved on to telling ghost stories now, and she had no wish to be roped in.
    Rory, though, looked rapt, probably because she had taken advantage of her mother’s absence to move. Whereas before she, Jenny, and Melody had perched together on a burlap sack, she now leaned against a tree at the edge of the crowd, talking to Jess Feldman as he hoisted something high into its branches.
    Lynn took a deep breath, fighting the urge to march over there and drag her daughter away. It would be useless anyway. Rory in her growing truculence would in all likelihood refuse to come with her, and Lynn didn’t think she could physically force her daughter, even if she wanted to. Which she didn’t. Violence had never been part of their relationship. She had never even spanked the child. Maybe, Lynn reflected, that was precisely the problem. Maybe she should have.
    Motherhood, Lynn decided with a sigh, was not a job for sissies.
    At least she had warned Jess Feldman. Unless and until matters escalated, that would have to do.
    Even as she watched, he finished his task and, with a hand on Rory’s elbow, strolled with her back to the group. They sat down side by side on a burlap sack.
    Lynn had just decided that, counterproductive or not, she was going to have to dump rain on her daughter’s parade, when Jess stood up. The assembly was looking at him, clapping. With a grin and a bow he headed toward the front of the group and seated himself on a bale of hay. Once there, he waited for the clapping to die down and then started to talk.
    Lynn presumed he was telling a ghost story, though she was too far