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Jane felt so stupefied by lunch that she couldn't face a lecture. If she were to sit quietly, she knew it would be only moments before she was sound asleep and snoring repulsively. "I know I should be taking my responsibilities more seriously," she told Shelley, "but I'm going to go take a nap."

Shelley flapped a hand dismissively. "Go ahead. We don't actually need to know about the wildlife in order to make an intelligent recommendation on sending the kids here. Unless, of course, they're going to tell us about something huge and vicious that eats teenagers."

"If so, ask if they're for sale," Jane said.

As Jane sluggishly made her way back to their cabin, she realized it was misting and there was a faint, faraway rumble of thunder. A perfect afternoon for a nap. She made a quick E-mail run on the laptop, picking up a delightfully personal note from Mel that made her blush, a plea from her daughter, Katie, that Jane authorize Grandma to advance funds for a shopping trip funds Jane would reimburse, of course, and a note from her son Mike asking her opinion of his joining the college band, which would require the purchase of a tux.

She replied to all of the notes briefly.

"Me, too," to Mel. "No," to Katie. And "Let me think about it," to Mike. She sent the notes off, removed her shoes, and snuggled into bed for a nice, cozy snooze.

When Jane woke, she thought she'd overslept and it was night. But it was merely overcast and had apparently rained quite hard while she was napping. Not nice for a camp-out dinner. She was still stumbling around trying to get her bearings when Shelley came in wearing an oversized khaki poncho with a hood.

"Ah, the tent wardrobe already!" Jane said.

"If it isn't Sleeping Beauty," Shelley exclaimed. "And I'll have you know I haven't eaten a bite since lunch." She bent way over and let the poncho slide off over her head. "I brought you one of these, too. They're really toasty. Flannel-lined and everything. Benson loaned us a bunch."

"What can you possibly imagine I'd need it for?" Jane asked.

""Why, to wear to the campfire dinner, of course."

"Shelley, you're kidding! What do I look like? Admiral Byrd? Noah? An idiot? It's cold and rainy out there."

"No, it's not so bad. The rain's stopped and it's actually a little warmer now than it was earlier. It'll be fun."

"Compared to what? Having our fingernails ripped out?"

"What a poop you're being," Shelley said. "A poop, I say! Come on. You'll see I'm right. If you really, really hate it, you can come back here and starve. This is dinner we're talking about, Jane."

"You mean we don't get to eat unless we go sit in the rain?"

"First, it's not really raining--"

Jane gestured at the glass doors. "Shelley, that silvery wet stuff falling out there is rain."

"No, it's just the residue of rain dripping off the leaves," Shelley said sweetly.

"Oh, of course. That makes a huge difference."

"And secondly, you can stay here and eat if you want. I think there are some of those neon orange crackers with peanut butter in my car. At least, they were there last summer. They might be a little smashed, but they'll taste the same as ever. And I'm pretty sure there's some room-temperature ginger ale somewhere in my luggage. What a feast!"

"How do you get into these tent garments?" Jane asked with a sigh.

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