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one sweep. All around the circle, doors opened and people stepped out to stare. It was like synchronized cuckoo clocks. Tom Bolton was at his gate, staring again as I drove by. At the corner, a teenager in a jacked-up pickup lost his cool long enough to brake and stare.
    Hey, this was fun!
    We cruised up through town. Limousines aren’t unknown in Vigland, of course. Every once in a while you see one parked at the nearby casino or headed for one of the waterfront resorts, and a newspaper article about last year’s senior prom had photos of several couples who’d hired limousines from a service over in Olympia. But neither were they commonplace, and we were definitely drawing second looks.
    In the back, Joella and Jerry were playing with their own controls, turning on the TV, opening and shutting the privacy divider, pushing something that closed the curtains. Something buzzed beside me, and I didn’t know what it was until Joella yelled at me to pick up the intercom.
    When I did, her voice said, “Madam Chauffeur, this is fantastic!”
    I wanted to open the window beside me, then remembered what Cousin Larry had said. By the time we got up near Wal-Mart, where traffic was heaviest, I knew how the long-tailed cat in a roomful of rocking chairs feels. The end of the limo as seen in the rearview mirror seemed miles back.
    At the red light, a teenage girl in a denim miniskirt waved frantically. I couldn’t make out her words, but it seemed clear she wanted to hire me.
    I was just beginning to feel more confident with the driving when a beat-up Chevy zoomed through a yellow light and turned left in front of me, barely missing the front fender. I jammed on the brakes, and in back I heard a big thump.
    â€œJo, did I hurt you?” I yelled in a panic. “Are you all right?”
    â€œI’m fine. Jerry’s on the floor, but he’s okay.”
    She sounded disappointed, and less clearly I could hear Jerry grumbling about my driving. Tough. Nobody invited him to come along.
    â€œHe’s getting up now.”
    We cruised on down the hill beyond Wal-Mart, then back along the bay to the center of town, and finally on around the hill to Secret View Lane. I parked at the end of the walkway to the house. I’d move the limo into the safer area of the driveway as soon as Jerry got his car out of there. Maybe I’d be all heartbroken about him in a few hours, but right now I just wanted him gone . Out of sight, out of my life.
    Jerry stepped out of the rear door of the limo first, rubbing his neck and glaring at me as if he figured I’d knocked him down on purpose.
    Joella rushed up and gave me a big hug. “Thanks, Andi. I don’t miss stuff like that, but it really was fun.” She grabbed my wrist and looked at my watch. Hers had stopped working, but she couldn’t spare the money to buy another one. “Oh, hey, I’m late for Bible study.”
    A minute later she was backing her old Subaru down her half of the driveway. She’d had a Mustang convertible when she first moved in, but she’d sold it to help with expenses.
    I turned to ask Jerry to move his Trans Am, but JoAnne Metzger, a neighbor from the end of the street, was running down the sidewalk and waving at me.
    â€œAndi, got a minute for a nosy question?” she called.
    â€œSure.”
    JoAnne is the social organizer of Secret View Lane. She puts together neighborhood barbecues and recycling drives and organizes the annual garage sale for the whole street. I went down the sidewalk to meet her.
    She patted her chest and puffed with the exertion. “My niece is getting married in a couple of weeks, and when I looked out and saw this limousine, I thought, oh, wouldn’t it be great to give Tanya a ride in that as a wedding present? She’d love it. But I have no idea how much it costs to hire one, so if you don’t mind my asking . . .”
    She glanced around as if wondering why the