Janet Jemseg hauled out a thick row of Cinderella-styled gowns from the back seat of her car. They sparkled in the bright summer sun, jewels encased in dry cleaner's plastic.

"I have a bad feeling about all of this," she announced to the hot tarmac of the driveway.

Her sister, Maggie-Ann, snatched the gowns just a bit too quickly. "Relax, you act like you don't trust me."

Janet flicked the hems up and draped them over Maggie-Ann's free arm. She'd had her suspicions, while traveling all the way to New Brunswick, but her sister had asked her to come home for the summer and frankly, she needed to get away from Ottawa. Besides, there was no place like Eastern Canada if a person wanted to escape the heat of Ontario.

"So, Maggie-Ann, what play did you say you were doing? Shakespeare?"

"Twelfth Night," Maggie-Ann called over her shoulder as she whisked the gowns into her house.

"On the phone you said it was 'The Taming of the Shrew'." Janet narrowed her eyes.

Maggie-Ann flicked open the side screen door with her foot. "So what? They're both comedies."

Janet stood on the hot driveway, suspicion nibbling at her again. Sure Maggie-Ann's husband, Tom, was assistant professor of Classical Literature at the university here in Sackville, New Brunswick, but that didn't include Shakespearean plays in the summer, did it?

Against her better judgment, she pulled her small suitcase out of her car. Since she couldn't afford a real vacation, it was either here or Ottawa, where she'd made her home for the last ten years. It was just she couldn't shake this wary feeling she wouldn't have the quiet vacation she deserved.

"Hi, Auntie Janet!" A duo of squeaky voices called out.

She turned, grinning. Her fraternal twin nephews, the only good thing Maggie-Ann's second marriage had produced, rode up the driveway on battered mountain bikes.

"Well, aren't you two growing fast!" Janet planted a kiss on both their cheeks, not before giving them a quick scan to find a clean spot. "What have you guys been into? You've got green stuff on your faces!"

Richie threw his bike onto the lawn and raced up to the house. "Dad gave us money for ice cream. I had 'Dinosaur Meteorites'."

"And I had 'Rainforest Rebellion'! It's the last for the whole weekend!" Robbie added, dropping his bike.

"What happened to Heavenly Hash?"

Robbie gave her a blank stare. "Huh? Is that what Mom's making for the weekend thing?"

Janet followed her nephew up the side doorsteps, just as Maggie-Ann came out to take her suitcase. "Forget it," she said, turning to her sister. "What weekend thing?"

"You know, the medieval fundraiser thing Mom's volunteered us for." Robbie wiped his face with his shirt.

Maggie-Ann pivoted quickly on the top step, but not quickly enough. Janet grabbed her younger sister by the waistband of her shorts. "What medieval fundraiser?"

Pressing away from Janet, Maggie-Ann cleared her throat. "Go into the gazebo, boys. Lunch is on the table."

"What medieval fundraiser?" Janet jerked her sister.

"Give me your suitcase. Is this all you brought?"

Janet swung it behind her back. "What play did you say you're doing?"

" 'Much Ado About Nothing.' "

"I thought it was 'Twelfth Night?' " Janet asked.

"You've got me all mixed up. Let me call Tom."

Janet yanked her sister down onto the last step, glaring at her round face. "What are you up to?"

"Don't growl, Janet. It's just one weekend to help a boy from Prince Edward Island. He needs an operation..."

"A fundraiser!"

"Keep your voice down. It gets squeaky when you yell. As I was saying, the operation's in Ontario..."

"So there's no play and you wanted to wear my gowns to your 'Society For Creative Anarchy'!"

"Anachronism," Maggie-Ann corrected smoothly. "You'll look lovely as usual and a lot of people are counting on you and your gowns and all those pageant titles you won..."

A strangled noise and a death grip on her sister's shorts were all Janet could manage.

"Let me go, Janet. You're breathing down my neck."

Trying to regain her control, she let her sister go. "I'm not coming." How could Maggie-Ann do this?

Maggie-Ann tried to wrench the suitcase from her hand. "You have to! I put all those pic --   where are you going?"

Janet stomped down the driveway. "Back to Ottawa. Take the gowns, Maggie-Ann. Knock yourself out with them. I'll be in Ottawa."

"Janet!" Maggie-Ann heaved her slightly chubby frame down the driveway and dramatically draped herself over the open back door of Janet's car. "What's back in Ottawa? Your fabric shop that's on a street that's being torn up? Do you think your customers will want to park blocks away and brave sewer smells just to buy a yard of cotton blend in last year's prints?" She tried to spread herself out the full width of the doorway.

I'm surprised there is still room to get around you, Janet thought cuttingly. You could stand to lose a few pounds. "I was Miss New Brunswick fourteen years ago. Fourteen long years ago!"

Maggie-Ann smiled widely. "And you're still gorgeous!"

"That's one part of my life I'd rather forget," she said. More than forget, she added to herself.

"Why? Because it goes hand in hand with your politician boyfriend, Hank, squiring you around from one campaign function to the next, telling everyone you were once Miss New Brunswick and runner up to Miss Canada?"

"You forgot Miss Salt Marshes of nineteen eighty --  "

"He was only raising political funds," Maggie-Ann scoffed. "We're doing real charity work here!"

"You and that wacko society? Forget it!"

Maggie-Ann offered her a sad look. "Come on, Janet. Don't you remember how we thought it would be romantic? Knights in shining armor, ladies of the court? We were going to get married in those gowns."

"You'd need all of them, too, for the number of times you've married." She shoved Maggie-Ann out of her way. "Besides, you told me they were for a play!"

"I lied. Get over it."

How could she do this, Janet thought, still shoving. "Move."

Maggie-Ann held her ground. "No. What's in Ottawa? Hank Milford?"

Janet stopped her shoving.

"Did you get back together with him?" Maggie-Ann leaned toward her ear.

Janet clenched her teeth. "Not in a million years."

"Smart girl. I divorced husband number one for fooling around with his assistant. It's too bad you can't get alimony."

"I wasn't stupid enough to marry him."

"So why are you going back to Ottawa? You know all your mutual friends will be there." Maggie-Ann's voice turned wheedling. "Alone at the Byward Market? Do you really want to explain why you're not spending the summer recess in Calgary with your favorite Independent Member of Parliament, the Honorable Hank Milford?"

Janet glared at her. Maggie-Ann always knew where her tender spots were. Hank was independent, all right. Independent with his secretary, behind Janet's back, until she walked in on them one day, while they were doing his 'campaign platform'. Or were they doing it on his campaign platform? This was one of the reasons why she was here. She had no desire to spend the summer too timid to go out in case she met up with one of his friends. But she didn't want to stay here and be manipulated by Maggie-Ann, either.

"I hate you," she muttered to Maggie-Ann.

"That's not very nice. As your younger sister, I could be scarred for life by your rejection."

"Get over it."

Maggie-Ann sidled out of the way and took Janet's suitcase. "I'm only thinking of you. You're just coming off of a break-up and your fabric shop is inaccessible for two weeks. You may as well have some fun. Remember when we used to get dressed up for those Medieval Days? You have such beautiful dark hair, perfect for dressing up."

Janet glanced down at her sister's hand, now draped casually over her shoulder, as they walked back to the house. "The last time I went to a Medieval Days, I ended up in the hospital getting my stomach pumped and you stole my cigarettes."

"I didn't ask you to eat all those quince tarts and you know you aren't allowed to smoke at the festivals."

"I only smoke two cigarettes a day and you put my name down for the 'quince tart eating contest'."

Maggie-Ann brushed it all away. "Aw, you should quit those weeds. Besides, it was for charity. We raised $700.00 that weekend!"

"And I spent the next week in bed!"

"What are you complaining about? You lost ten pounds!"

"And I've put on twenty since! I don't think I'd even fit into those gowns, anymore!" she said, surprised that Maggie-Ann hadn't said something about that, too.

Maggie-Ann opened the side door that led into the kitchen and guided her sister inside. "So just have salad for lunch. You'll look great when you go back to all your nosy friends in Ottawa. They'll never know how much you've suffered for Hank."

Janet snatched back her suitcase. "I haven't suffered." She hated when Maggie-Ann was right. Returning to Ottawa would be awful, just like her life was right now. All she'd wanted was to relax and do a little moping.

All right, do a lot of moping.

Hell, she could mope anywhere. In fact, she could mope very well in Ottawa. She just didn't want to.

As an afterthought, she poked Maggie-Ann in the shoulder, denting in the soft blue tee shirt she was wearing. "You used me! For my gowns and my title!"

"What can I say? I look great in the green silk gown and you'll knock the stockings off the men when they see you in that dusty rose one!" She made a short whistling noise.

"This isn't a fashion show, Maggie-Ann! Most people put their outfits together on a budget. The only reason we had a better wardrobe was because I worked in a fabric shop. That's half the reason I got so far in the pageant circuits anyway. I sewed my own gowns, so I was a cheap contestant to sponsor!" Feeling Maggie-Ann tuning her out, she let out a huff. "That's it, I'm leaving."

She turned the same time someone called out from the end of the driveway. Maggie-Ann leaned out the door to wave, but she didn't bother. To heck with it. Whoever was there just better get out of her way. Let her sister explain to them why she was so cranky.

She marched down the steps, skidding to halt when she saw the visitors for the first time.

A boy of about eleven was wheeling himself up the driveway, a blonde woman guiding his chair from the back. He stopped directly behind her car, looking hopefully up at her, as a smile widened on his drawn features.

Oh, hell.