"That's the challenge," Penny answered. "Ice changes all the time."
"She should know," Mick answered, displaying a sporting magazine, "Penny's the one on the cover." The glossy color photo displayed a concentrated young woman, hand-climbing upside down, across a rock face that looked devoid of any hint of a hand hold.
"They just used the picture of me 'cause my butt's cuter than these guys," the young woman answered.
"Don't let Penny kid you," another climber answered. "She's a whiz on a roof. This girl can find a handhold on a sheet of glass and she's as strong as any man I know. She won't even tell you how much she can bench press. Penny always looks for the crux, the toughest place to climb."
"You gotta push," she answered with a smile. Penny, who couldn't have weighted more than a hundred and ten, picked up the magazine. "That was a pisser," she said. "We were in Alberta...." And the group was off on another round of stories.
Gladys Turnbull button-holed two of the climbers and began holding court on one side of the room while devouring a logging crew's share of Cynthia's Toll House cookies. Dean picked up Gladys's chatter in mid-conversation. It involved some sort of messages from space. The bewildered climbers looked longingly at their friends and especially Penny, but were trapped into listening to the galactic adventures of some creatures called "womps."
Effie and Claire returned, followed in by Martha and Donnie, who had been playing outside. The children raced back to the laundry room where Janet was finishing up her domestic duties. The Quincys wandered into the crowded parlor. Effie bubbled away to anyone who'd listen while Claire stood looking over the gathering with undisguised disdain. Effie explained effusively how she and her sister had spent the day resurrecting their long lost great-aunt, whom Dean wondered if they were about to dub Saint Annie. Claire took a seat offered by one of the climbers and proceeded to add to the sainthood by correcting every other sentence poor Effie tried to offer. The ice climbers smiled politely but one by one began to make excuses about leaving for dinner.
Cynthia entered the room and explained the general menus and pricing of the various restaurants in town. When the crowd began to break up in earnest, she took her husband's arm and led him to their kitchen where a chicken pot pie was still bubbling on the table. It was a sure sign he was forgiven for his irreverent try at changing the age-old ritual of greeting card purchasing. Their suppertime chatter was limited to the logistics of Bird Song and the care and breakfast feeding of its thirteen guests. Fred returned just as they were clearing the dishes, wearing a perplexed look on his face.