Read Online Back to Madeline Island by Jay Gilbertson - Free Book Online

cinched together at the waist like a ballerina costume.
    â€œThat’s fancy,” I say, coming over for a closer look. “Wow, this is really fun.” I tie it around my waist and model it. “Hey, you know, this reminds me of something I think it’s time we do. But first, here.” I hand the apron back to Sam. “I’ll tell Howard we’re not quite ready for Martha.”
    â€œConsider it done,” Howard yells from the back and we all sigh.
    Don’t get me wrong, we want to make this a successful business and all, but I’ve learned that keeping things within a certain parameter keeps them—yours. I don’t want to grow into a huge mega apron industry. I like how things are and my hope, ours really, is to grow slowly and grow how we as a group want to. How’s that for a business plan? Imagine if we all would rein things in a little closer and realize we have enough.
    Ruby hands me a mug of coffee and gives my shoulder a squeeze. I go over to my cutting table and dig in. But before I cut a thing, I lift my stack of neon green fabric pieces and make sure there’s nothing else under there. Ruby turns up the stereo again and Django is back strumming his hot-jazz guitar to “Minor Swing.”
    As I zoom my electric shears along, I say to the group, “I’ve been thinking.” Lilly groans and I slit my eyes at her. She shakes her head and revs her machine. “We all need some exercise and, well, I, for one, need to drop—”
    â€œI could drop,” Sam says loud as all get-out, “’bout what Ruby weighs wet —and that’s no lie.”
    â€œYou would be surprised,” Lilly states with authority, adjusting her bifocals. “I have a bit more to me than the eye reveals. I’ve just learned to layer.” We all say the layer part in unison. We all layer.
    This is a universal trick any overweight woman knows. Men, well, the heavy ones anyway, just seem to openly burst out of their clothes with no shame whatsoever. Walk through any mall and count all those bellies hanging over.
    â€œHoward and I,” Johnny admits, “we’ve learned this technique of not breathing really deep and holding in the tummy. Like this.” He stands and lifts his cashmere sweater, revealing a protruding hairy belly. Then he sucks it in and it disappears into the six-pack I knew was there. Damn in-shape types.
    â€œYou all full of crap,” Sam tsk-tsks. “Howard and you got bodies better than those boys over there.” She points to the Chippendale calendar on the wall.
    I turn around and have a look at Mr. October. Okay, another look. Oh my.
    â€œHave you been checking me out?” Johnny asks, grinning.
    â€œHoney,” Sam drawls out long and luscious. “Whether you or Howard’s coming or goin’, we ladies is checking things out—uh-huh.” Everyone laughs. Johnny blushes.
    â€œYou know…” Lilly’s machine comes to a halt. She reaches up to smooth her towering silver do. “I used to be a professional belly dancer.” Everyone holds their breath.
    â€œWhy Lilly,” Ruby remarks with admiration, “you are just full of surprises.”
    â€œWell,” Lilly hesitates. “It was about a hundred years ago.” Then she lifts her head a bit more. “But damn it was a lot of fun and an excellent exercise for a gal, too!”
    â€œYou know,” I offer, “I’m not too keen on doing, like, weight-lifting-exercise-stuff. As you can tell…besides, I would hate to get all toned. Like Madonna.” What a lie that is.
    â€œOh right,” Johnny chides. “Wouldn’t it just be the pits if all of a sudden you got all toooooned.” I toss a bolt of material at him; he catches it midair and then sticks out his tongue. The nerve.
    â€œAs I was trying to explain,” I lift my well-arched brows and aim them toward Johnny. “Belly dancing