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Jakey. They’ll shave this mountain bald as a boulder. Not a tree left standing. That’ll give your business a big boost.”
    Jakey took a long swig of whiskey and handed her the bottle. “How ’bout this? How ’bout you be my personal economics advisor?” He poked her thigh. “You can give me a full economic evaluation. Seriously. I’d pay you for that.”
    He slid down, kissed the side of her breast.
    In fact, she’d already ascertained that Jakey had his own private economy. At the register, he ignored the price list stored under the counter and charged whatever he felt the customer could bear; a bag of marshmallows for her (or some kid) would be a dime; for Dr. Peterson of Thousand Oaks, a buck and a dime. Jakey ran his restaurant, bar, and market by self-interest, but not the kind that fit any rational model. There was no maximizing of any profits. God knows what his books looked like—fiction of some ilk, no doubt. Often, she noticed, he didn’t even ring something up, just opened the cash drawer and made change. If someone squawked over a high price, Jakey would say, “Fine, fine, go buy it at the bodega across the street.”
    Of course, the nearest competition was the Hapsaw Lodge, sixteen twisting miles down the hill.
    *   *   *
    Julie arrived ten minutes early with a wooden walking stick. Having feared a slow pious trek through the woods, Cress was disappointed to be led down the familiar looping asphalt roads to the lodge. Tap tap tap, they went, Julie keeping close, often brushing against her. Cress had never been nudged and brushed against as much as she had here in the Meadows. But she’d never spent as much time so close to older people, who might be hard of hearing.
    â€œYou should know,” Julie said, “Jakey went a little nuts after his wife left. A little frantic for company. Terrified of being alone. But he’s been looking for a special someone for a while now. And you”—here, her arm collided with Cress’s—“you’re so different from all the women up here. I have to give him credit. He’s surprised us by making an exceptional choice.”
    â€œWe’ll see how it goes,” Cress said. “It’s only been a few weeks.”
    Tap tap tap. “I’d love to give you a little advice,” Julie said. “May I?”
    Julie knew an equation that applied to divorced men: Take how many years they were married and divide it by two: that’s how many years before they’re actually ready for another relationship—how long before they’re out from under their old marriage and can be fully present for a new one.
    Cress did the math: if Jakey was married for twenty-four years, he’d need twelve years of recovery time, two of which had elapsed. “Ten more years!” she yelped. “He’ll be really old then.”
    â€œBut you should snag him now,” said Julie. “Men don’t wait around. Ready or not, they find someone new right away. Rick wasn’t over his marriage when we got together. But he’s worth all the Sturm und Drang.”
    â€œSturm und Drang, like what?”
    â€œHe gets moody, won’t talk for a whole day. Rick can be very dark. But I wasn’t getting any younger. I knew I better grab on and fasten my seat belt.”
    Jakey seemed incapable of moodiness, even grumpiness. Distraction, maybe. Jakey could be distracted.
    â€œI like Jakey,” Cress said. “But I don’t know about the long run.”
    â€œJakey’s super!” Julie shoulder-bumped Cress. “Friendly, good business head. Big heart. So lovable. He’s worth it, I can promise you that.”
    Why would Julie promise her anything? Cress wasn’t used to making friends this way: assuming the best, and leaping ahead as if they knew each other. And Julie was so much older, so far outside Cress’s circle, so fond of