Between the grass and the water lay a narrow strip of sand, not the beach kind but swampier, dark and spongy. Her feet liked the feel of that, too. She was up to her thighs in the warm, still water, hands outstretched in preparation for a head-first launching into the lake, when she remembered Fairbanks.
She paused, looked all around and then straight down, where she should have checked first. And there were her legs and feet, highly visible in a sunshine beam. Visible and possibly tasty-looking to reptilian eyes. Mrs. Plansky had been something of risk taker in her younger days—knew how to ride a motorcycle, for example, had done some free-diving spearfishing on a spring vacation in the Grenadines with a college sort-of boyfriend where it turned out she was the superior free diver, dooming the relationship, as she’d figured out later, her misery over the break-up ending at the very moment—but these were not her younger days. Sometimes she had to remind herself of that fact!
(July 15, preorderable. Full tour dates coming soon!)