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that prospect, so he told them, ‘If nominated, I shall not run; if elected, I will not serve.’ ”
    Liza smiled. “You have to admire the way they had with words in the old days.”
    Ted nodded. “It worked so well that it became part of the political lingo. If someone wants to reject being drafted for an office, they pull a Sherman.”
    “I’ll have to remember that,” Liza said. Because I guess that’s what I’ll have to do with Ava for the paper, she thought.
    “At least that clears up your present difficulty, if not your past problems with this place . . .” Ted paused as he realized he’d lost Liza again. “Did you notice another historical annoyance?” he asked.
    “Yes,” Liza replied, “she’s opening the door.”
    The restaurant’s door flew open as a woman in expensive yet garish clothing and makeup popped inside. Curly black hair framed her head like a cloud, and her silk tank top showed off impressive and perfectly tanned cleavage. An abbreviated crimson skirt twitched around her ample hips, and her slim waist was accentuated by a gold belt in the shape of a snake, thousands of tiny scales culminating in a solid gold head with winking ruby eyes.
    “Liza Kelly!” the sexy vision purred, giving Liza a vividly lipsticked smile. “I heard you were back in the area . . . I just haven’t seen you at the country club.”
    The only time Liza would turn up at the Killamook Country Club would be as the guest of honor at a funeral—and even then she’d be spinning in her casket.
    “Ooh!” Liza’s new best friend exclaimed, bringing up a wristwatch that looked like a jewel-encrusted armband. “Got to run—can’t keep the hooze-bond waiting. See ya around.”
    She swung round, her short skirt flicking within a millimeter of decency, and strode off on her four-inch heels.
    Ted craned his neck, watching her through the window, then shamefacedly turned back to Liza. “Who was that?”
    “I guess you could call her my high school nemesis,” Liza replied grimly. “Brandy D’Alessandro.”
    “D’Alessandro?” Ted echoed. “Isn’t that some sort of Italian for ‘Alexander’?”
    “Tell me about it,” Liza snorted. “The cutesy name, the whole Brunette Bombshell thing, skirts up to her crotch, shirts open down to her belly button, captain of the cheerleading squad . . .”
    “Queen Bee,” Ted said.
    “That’s the first letter of five to describe her.” Liza closed her eyes, remembering how it was back then. She wasn’t bad looking, was pretty popular, and certainly smart. But when Brandy was around, Liza might as well have been wallpaper. “She gave me an itch.”
    “Guess so, if you still have to scratch it twenty years later.”
    “We both ran for president of the senior class,” Liza said.
    “And she won?”
    Liza shook her head. “Should have been a sure thing—more girls than guys in the class. Instead, Brandy and I split the vote, and J.J. Pauncecombe—John Junior—got in.”
    She laughed at the look on Ted’s face. “Oh, yeah, he was in our class, too. So was Chad Redbourne. The election wound up a pure popularity poll—with J.J. as president and Brandy as vice president. I was secretary, and Chad was the class treasurer.”
    Ted sat silent for a moment, then said, “I always think the best thing about high school is that it’s so many years ago. You moved on.”
    Liza nodded. “Back then, I couldn’t wait to get away. I made sure the college I chose was as far away as I could manage.”
    “And then you went to Japan to visit your mom’s family, followed by those years down in L.A.” Ted spread his hands. “You had a life. Looks like your friend Brandy never got farther than the Killamook Country Club.”
    “Actually, Brandy headed down to California after high school.” Liza smiled. “She thought she was going to set Hollywood on fire. But all she got was a few walk-on parts, basically on the strength of her chest.”
    Ted shrugged. “From what I could