"Just think about it, Maxi," Isabel pleaded, literally on bended knee. The sunflower seeds she was picking out of the shag carpet had escaped through a runaway tear in the cellophane bag.

"I don't need to think about it; I'm too busy to even consider taking a vacation. Researching for my new novel is very tedious," she fibbed.

"So stuff whatever you need into a tote and drag it along. This is the chance of a lifetime. I've already told you that Chuck is willing to pay our airfare to Hawaii."

"You did?"

"Yes." Isabel grinned triumphantly, before concluding her announcement by saying, "He's paying for everything else, too. We'll even get spending money."

"That does it!" Her fingers releasing her hook and partly crocheted blue doily, allowing them to fall onto her lap, Maxcine smacked both arms of her easy chair for emphasis. If her right elbow had bumped the tiffany style rooster lamp, it would have flown sideways off the end table onto Izzy's easy chair.

"I knew you'd agree."

"Quite the opposite. I'm more opposed than ever. Our brother and Victoria had a close call when they went on their sentimental journey to the east coast."

"Oh, no, here we go again!" Isabel wailed, helplessly plopping into a sitting position on the floor among the spilled sunflower seeds, her back bumping the coffee table. A thought flashed through her mind. They had lived together for over ten years, starting when their marriages had simultaneously ended in divorce. During that time frame, occasions had risen, like several a day, when Maxi took literary license, dispensing personal opinion as if she were writing a book. One that nobody in their right mind would read.

"Victoria and Chuck were lucky to be booked on an afternoon flight out of..." Whichever airport it was. Half a day sooner, and they'd have been up close and personal with one of two Twin Towers..."

"It would be in your best interest to forget all about that terrorist attack on the World Trade Center," Isabel yelped in an attempt to cut her off.

"...or the Pentagon."

"And the Pentagon. And the airliner that went down in Pennsylvania. But nooooo, your pea-brain is hanging onto every detail like a vise grip, even though it happened years ago!"

Maxcine didn't dare tell Izzy that her new novel was about the triple tragedy, because her kid sister would accuse her of trying to capitalize on other people's horror. Very far from the truth. The manuscript was therapy, her way of coping with the disasters. Besides, she hadn't sold a manuscript yet, and more than likely she never would, so there couldn't possibly be any harm in writing about terrorism. "Can't help it," she said, instead of elaborating on her opinion. "Chuck knows how I feel and he's determined to manipulate me into flying. No, thanks! I'm not going anywhere that I can't walk!"

"Walking on sandy beaches. Along flower lined paths that meander across tropical islands. On trails snaking up the sides of volcanoes. Pearl Harbor. Gift shops. Well, since you refuse to go, I'll just have to think about you from those nifty places."

Squinting through her bifocals, suspicious Maxcine looked down her nose at her tormentor. "You'd go without me?"

Isabel clambered onto her feet without tripping on the hem of her checkered skirt, while dropping the handful of seeds she'd picked up onto Maxi's lap. They blended with the pussy willow design of the outdated dress. "There isn't time to try and change your mind about going. I've got packing to do. Don't forget to feed Fang while I'm gone."

Their Doberman wouldn't let that happen; her appetite alarm was definitely connected to her barker. Ever since they'd been adopted by the guard dog, she'd eaten more kibble every day than a pack of starving wolves could possibly have devoured.

Maxcine shrugged as if indifferent. Her words, however, definitely belied that indifference. She was determined to change Izzy's foolish mind. "Ageing is scary. There aren't any role models to prove differently. Don't apply for that job."

"What's that jibberish supposed to mean?"

"You won't be setting a youthful example of how to waste time, and money, on a crummy vacation, because you're as old as the hills and twice as crusty. Look, I appreciate that you don't merely wish to sit on your fanny, clutching a handful of coffin nails, with a request for a certain kind of funeral flowers in your pocket. However...."

"I'm not that old!" Good grief, Maxi was trying to lay down a blanket of confusion, in the hopes of covering over the vacation offer from Chuck. Well, it isn't going to work!

Maxcine backed down a bit. "Okay, so you aren't. Can't you try setting your youthful example at home?"

"Who is here to see me setting that example? You? Our dog?"

"Then consider the mall. There's always lots of people wandering around, and it's within walking distance. Put on your show there, by riding on the merry-go-round."

"The elderly crave adventure just as much as those fifty years their junior. Which is why we wear bifocals," Isabel rattled off to confuse Maxi. She thumbed her own bifocals up into position, then pulled them back down a bit so she could look through the clear glass upper half. They both had the same lens arrangement, much to the chagrin of their eye doctor.

"You've lost me," Maxcine muttered, snatching up her doily and hooking one jerky crochet stitch. Her crocheting technique was usually as smooth as silk.

"By not understanding what I just said, you've proven that you're content to vegetate. Like a head of cabbage. Or radishes. Or like an entire salad. Not me! I crave adventure!"

"So read a book. Through reading, you can enjoy all kinds of adventure, without competing with other tourists for space on jellyfish infested beaches."

"But..."

"Keep in mind how much you hate jelly."

"I know what you're trying to do, and it won't work! I will not change my mind. Old isn't necessarily doddering. Where there's a will, there's a way. What are you going to be doing while I'm gone? Cleaning our house? Shoveling doggie poops from the backyard? If I'm in Hawaii, you'll be wasting your breath snarling, 'Gimmie some of those M&M's you've been hoarding!'. Grow a spine, Maxi! Get a life, Maxi! Live it up with me on the islands for a week or two, Maxi! I might even share my M&M's with you over there, Maxi!"

Maxcine blew her kid sister a noisy raspberry. For once she had her own stash of their very favorite candy, and that was going to be a closely guarded secret.

Isabel gave up and turned to march purposefully toward the hallway of their jointly owned home. It was the nicest house in all of Arizona, because not only did it belong to them, but it was paid for.

"We always do everything together. I can't believe you'd leave me behind this time," Maxcine muttered in amazement, her grip on her crochet hook snugging.

"You're the only one who can prevent that," countered over her shoulder.

"I can?"

"Yeah. By coming with me." Enough said. Isabel marched into the hallway.