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imagine, to both her love of eating and her aversion to getting dirty and sweaty. I’ve tried several times to convince her to join Max and me on our runs, but she seems to always have an excuse to avoid doing so.
    “I was thinking of joining that new exercise class they have at the community center on Tuesday and Thursday mornings.”
    Tara hesitated.
    “You know you want to get into that red dress for your cousin’s wedding,” I reminded her.
    “That’s true. I guess I could work out two mornings a week.”
    “Great. I’ll pick you up on my way.” She’d be less likely to cancel if I showed up on her front step. “The class starts tomorrow, so I’ll see you at eight.”
    “Eight?” Tara said weakly as she measured the red sauce into a measuring cup. “Maybe I should start next week.”
    “Two months, twenty pounds. Do the math.”
    “Okay.” Tara sighed. “I’ll be ready. Maybe we can get lattes on the way.”
    “Sure, if they’re nonfat.”
    Tara looked at me as I grated the cheddar cheese. “How come we eat the same thing but you’re so skinny?”
    “Because I ride my bike into town on nice days even if I’ll be dusty, and I run on the beach with Max even if my floors get sandy.”
    In addition to being obsessively organized, Tara is a neat freak who really does believe that cleanliness is next to godliness.
    “I guess you have a point,” Tara admitted. “How much sour cream are we supposed to use?”
    “A cup and a half.”
    “It’s too bad Maggie went up to bed so early,” Tara added. “She loves enchiladas.”
    “I’m really worried about her,” I said. “I feel like the progress she made last month is slipping away. Should we add the chilies to the tortillas or the sauce?”
    “The tortillas.”
    “So how did things go after I left the bank?” I asked. “Did I totally blow any chance we had at getting a loan?”
    Tara walked over to preheat the oven. “Quite the contrary. Mr. Bradford almost seemed,” Tara paused as she searched for the right word, “charmed.”
    “Charmed? Are you kidding me? I fled his office and jumped in the harbor while he looked on. What’s charming about that?”
    Tara shrugged. “You got me. I was mortified, but he actually smiled. When I left he said he was looking forward to reviewing our reworked proposal.”
    “So you’re saying that my tendency to be a total mess is actually working in our favor?”
    “Oddly enough, it would seem it might be.”
     
    “Thanks for helping me,” I said an hour later after our enchiladas were assembled and the show was over. Tara had offered to help me see to the cats in the sanctuary, which I needed to do twice a day.
    “What are we going to do with those wonderful-looking enchiladas?” Tara asked. “There’s no way I’m going to bust my butt exercising and then ruin it by eating any of the cheesy delights we just made.”
    “I thought I’d see if I could entice Maggie to eat a couple, and then I was going to divide what was left between Mr. Parsons and Mrs. Trexler.”
    Mr. Parsons was my reclusive next-door neighbor and Mrs. Trexler was my third-grade teacher who now lived alone and rarely got out since she lost her driver’s license for running into the back of Finn’s sheriff’s vehicle. Twice.
    “That’s a good idea. I’m sure they’ll both appreciate the gesture. In fact, maybe we should start taking part of the food we make every Monday to those in need. I love to watch Cathy’s show, but she certainly doesn’t pick low-calorie options.”
    “No, she doesn’t.” I laughed. “Last week’s cheesecake had enough calories in it to feed a small town for a week. I’ve actually been taking my half of the food we make to Mrs. Trexler and Mr. Parsons for a while. From now on I’ll just divide the entire serving.”
    I entered the first cat room, reserved for moms with kittens, and began the process of providing food and water, as well as clean linens and cat box litter. Each cat room