The yellow convertible swung up over a shoulder and down the winding dirt road into a narrow valley. Ahead lay a small lake.
"Your summer cabin's on the south shore, you say?" Joe asked, tooling the big car down into the cool, tree-shaded lowland.
Bowen nodded, beside him. "I still think you ought to let me put my oxygen torch to that thing."
Joe grinned and slowed the car, whipping it off the road into a small clearing. A small, weatherbeaten cabin stood back among the pines. Beyond the clearing was the sandy shore and the lake.
"There's our cabin," Barbara acknowledged, as Joe headed the car toward it. He parked under the trees and they got out. He carried the bright globe under his arm.
"Well," Bowen said, facing him, "We're here, now. What is it you plan to do, Joe?"
Joe nodded toward the clearing. "I think I'd better do it out there," he said.
"It's wonderful up here on weekends," Barbara remarked, matching stride with them as they started toward the clearing. She was wearing brief shorts and a sweater, with a bright kerchief tied around her head. "There's swimming and fishing and no one to bother us. Father's always wished he could build a home up here—"
Joe stopped, turning to her father. "Have you?"
Bowen nodded, frowning. "Always wanted a quiet, little place for the day I retire—"