Welcome to Paradise by Rosalind James Page A

she knew she should have made. Could have made, if she’d had a little more time and space to think it up.
    Kevin dropped back to walk with her, watching Scott with a speculative look on his face. “Let me guess,” he said. “ Boyfriend’s instructing you on strategy.”
    “He has a name, you know,” she said, trying to rally her forces again.
    “He’s had a name in my cabin, too,” Kevin countered. “And I’m not using that one, out of concern for your delicate feelings. But come on , tell . What’s his brilliant strategic plan?”
    “What’s yours?” she countered. She wasn’t that naïve. Kevin had come to win , she knew that .
    “Eventually, to team up with you and Zara, vote the Big Strong Men out,” he answered promptly. “What do you think?”
    “I think I don’t want to say right now,” she said with a reluctant smile. “It’s too early. And I’m not going to make promises I might not be able to keep. Not good for my game or my soul.”
    He sighed. “I knew it was too easy. Not as soft as you look, are you?”
    “Not soft in the head, anyway,” she countered. “The first thing you learn in my job is not to take anything anybody says at face value, or to draw conclusions too quickly. I like you, and I’m not looking to vote you out. But I’m not making any alliances just yet.”
      “Well, you’ve got a point there,” Kevin admitted. “You don’t watch these things, but I can tell you, the mistake people make is playing their endgame too early. That’s why I said “eventually.” You have to keep that endgame in mind, of course, but at this stage you’re really just outrunning the bear.”
    “What bear?” she asked, diverted in spite of her caution.
    “You don’t have to be the fastest guy,” he explained. “You just have to be faster than the slowest guy. I’ve got a couple weeks here before I have to worry about the bear catching me. Not when Melody and Martin are offering themselves up as such tasty morsels. Now, you . . .”
    Kevin thought she was likely to be voted out? Then why was he trying to align with her? “I’m bear meat, huh?” she asked, trying to make a joke of it as the hurt rose inside.
    “Nope. I’ve got to plan for it to go either way, though. Because you’re up there running at the head of the pack, but Scott? He’s Tender Vittles.”

 
    By the time they had reached the turnoff to their separate homesteads, which, the drivers informed them, were about a mile apart, most of the group were looking fairly droopy, and conversation had fallen to a minimum. Mira had become increasingly tired, the unaccustomed layers of clothing and wide cotton skirt making for heavy going in the late-morning warmth. She said goodbye to Scott, nodded briefly at his whispered “Remember what you’re supposed to do,” then turned wearily onto the dirt road to Paradise. There’d be a lot to do when they got there, she knew. But at least she could stop walking.
    “You have got to be kidding,” she heard Kevin say loudly from his position in front of the wagon when the heavy thing lumbered to a stop at last. She walked up with Zara to see what he was looking at. And stopped dead in her turn.
    “Wow. I knew it’d be rustic, but . . .” she began.
    “ Noooo !” Melody wailed from behind her. “This can’t be it! Where’s the real house?” she demanded of the driver.
    “That’s it,” he said with a not unsympathetic smile. “Home sweet home.”
    “Maybe once it’s cleaned up . . .” Mira began, looking dubiously at the rough cabin, the bark still clinging to the logs, with its few tiny, grimy windows and leaning tin stovepipe, set in the middle of a clearing of dirt and weeds.
    “It’s a shack!” Melody cried. “I thought it’d be cute, like a log cabin at a ski area. How are we supposed to live here?”
    “Well, let’s not get all lathered up yet,” Stanley cut in firmly. “Looks to me to be a creek over there. Let’s go sit a spell, pull a