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"Yeah," said Buddy, with an enormous grin. "We got plenty of frozen stuff. Follow me."

Alec settled for a frozen lasagna that served eight. A little large, but the only other size they had was individual. He added some frozen broccoli florets, frozen garlic bread, and a frozen cheesecake for dessert. Buddy was right. The selection wasmuchbetter in that department.

Alec followed Buddy back to the counter then lingered when they passed a wine display. He

selected a couple of bottles of Merlot and returned to the counter.

Buddy was processing his purchases. "Well," he said. "If I had to guess I would say you're entertaining company for dinner."

"Maybe," Alec said, demurely—knowing full-well that if Buddy hadn't already deciphered the details, he would before lunch. Keeping secrets in this town was like capturing a tiger in a paper bag.

"I'll start a new tab."

"Thank you very much," Alec said, grabbing the bags and turning to go.

The front door jingled as he was heading out. It was Misty entering, her expression broadening

when she saw him.

"Oh, my gosh! I was hoping I would see you. I had a dream about you last night."

"Of course you did," Alec said, under his breath. He halted with his bags which were a little heavy. "Surely, you have better people to spend the night with."

Misty dismissed the jest. "You were doing a book signing in Butte… atBorders."

"Well,they'relong gone. So, you were dreaming, for sure."

"Not the point. The point is… you weren't writing about music, orDupont Circleanymore. You were writing fiction—romance… and there was a line of men and women with copies of your book winding through the store and out the front door."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "No… Buddy told you that. I told him about the book yesterday."

"No, Alec. We didn't speak about you at all. I was in a hurry to get home. The storm…

remember?"

Alec stood there dumbfounded, clutching his bags tight to his torso. He turned back to counter.

Marge had joined Buddy again, and both were gaping at him wide-eyed, mouths open like astonished

children.

Stepford,Alec thought again.Fucking Stepford.

20

The morning was almost gone. When Alec got back to the cabin, he unloaded the groceries, shed

his shame-clothes, and showered. After, he wrote for two hours straight, stopping mid-afternoon for a snack.

He checked his e-mail and Kristen had written, letting him know that letters were pouring in

regarding the last column about his misadventures in Montana. She was wondering if she could have

another piece sooner. Alec wrote her back explaining that she should have something in her e-mail

either tonight or the following day.

He had negotiated rights-reversion on all of his columns years back so that he could re-purpose