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and lets out a perfect smoke ring, then swirls it away with the cigarette’s tip.
    I shift up, and off we float down North Shore Road. The leaves are bright yellows and oranges—making the woods seem as though lit from within. There’s magic out there and fall on the island is looking so amazing.
    â€œWould you look at that?” Ruby points to a group of five, no six, deer that are considering crossing the road in front of us. They don’t.
    â€œI wonder how long until I hit one of them.”
    â€œWell, I hope never, darling. Think of the damage it would do to your van—not to mention all the Bambis.”
    â€œHey! What about me?”
    â€œ You have insurance—don’t you?”
    I nod my head, plop on my sunglasses and shift into higher gear. Madeline Island is such an oddity—how did all those deer get here? Imagine, an island off the tip of Wisconsin. I fell in love with this place the moment Ruby and I first came up here. Ancient, towering white pine trees are everywhere; when the wind blows through them, they whisper. The island is over fourteen miles long, but only three miles wide; that’s the long and short of it.
    Lake Superior, the largest of the Great Lakes, really is an inland sea—and it’s fricking cold! I do enjoy dangling my toes off our dock, but the water takes some getting used to. I’m not really sure why no one’s built a bridge to the mainland, Bayfield, but I sure as hell am glad there isn’t one. Think of all the riffraff that would come here and take over. Are we riffraff? Whoever thought of that?
    Like I mentioned, LaPointe is really small, but keep in mind there’s not a lot of us living out here year-round—about two hundred. Not that many crazy people in Wisconsin.
    We pass by a mailbox that’s a miniature Victorian mansion; behind it is a field full of similar birdhouses perched on long poles. A handsome man, dressed smartly in faded jeans and a tight T-shirt with a Fedora hat askew, gives us a big wave and I honk back. A long, thick braid of hair snakes down his back; it swings with his every move.
    â€œThat Charlie,” I comment. “He’s a looker—for his age—I mean…”
    â€œI know exactly what you mean, Eve darling. It’s amazing a man well into his seventies can look so—dashing. It’s simply…”
    â€œTempting?”
    â€œEve Moss.”
    â€œHe’s a widower—like you—handsome as hell, lives right down the street from us and I would think that you and he…”
    Ruby lets out a guffaw and then smacks me on the arm. “I have no intention of having anything more than a friendship with the likes of any man. Even if the thought of Charlie is—quite tempting .”
    â€œHere I thought that maybe you and he—”
    â€œI was married more of my life than I was single—nearly fifty years . For the first time—for the last time, I should think—I’m having the time of my life and I want nothing more than—this.”
    â€œTo be honest, I totally understand, but don’t you miss the sex? I sometimes do.”
    â€œIf it could only be sex. But you see, if Charlie and I were to be—intimate—well, then our relationship becomes about that and should I tire of him…” I glance her way. “Oh all right, if he got sick of me , well then, our friendship could jolly well end in the bargain and I simply don’t want to take that chance. Besides, at my age, fantasy is fuel enough, I can take care of myself.”
    â€œYou’re so right. Personally, for the longest time, I’ve filled my life so completely with owning and running my salon. Now…with our apron business…hanging out with the boys and just life up here being so incredible, well, it sure is enough for me—more than enough.” Okay, so maybe I do miss the sex, I’m not dead you know. But at my age, sex is