"I'm pretty sure this is something we could do online," Rosalie groused. "Can't we just Google the Mormons and see what we find?"

I scowled at the card. "I already tried that. You get 5,350,000 hits and when you do find something useful, you have to browse every link on the site just to find what you could get with one simple phone call. Besides, Esme was insulted and you know how Carlisle gets when that happens."

It was better to suffer a few minutes of religious talk to make sure this ended here. Esme had all but ordered us to make amends somehow and it was either this or bringing her a stag as a peace offering.

"But this is ridiculous," she insisted. "If they're anything like other telemarketers, they'll get us on some list and then we'll never hear the end of it. We'll have to move to Siberia where they have no missionaries and no Chanel lipliner for fifteen hundred miles."

Of course. I'm worried about the wrath of Carlisle and she's worried that she'll run out of No. 8 Brilliant. That's my Rose.

"They're not telemarketers."

"They're odd people who knock on our doors and live in Utah," she pointed out. "Of course they're telemarketers."

She sometimes got the oddest ideas. Then again, she likes elk.

"I'm calling," I said obstinately. "You can get in on this if you want."

Before she could protest, I dialed the 800 number and put it on speaker phone. A moment later, an unnaturally cheerful voice came on the line.

"Thank you for calling the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints," she chirped. "I'm Sister Lambert. How are you doing this evening?"

Rosalie rolled her eyes and twirled her hair like a cheerleader. I struggled to contain a laugh and cleared my throat.

"Hi, Sister Lambert," I said. "My family was talking to your missionaries a few days ago and they gave us a card for a video?"

"Great! How did you like what the missionaries told you?"

"It was special," Rosalie interrupted, trying to nip this in the bud. "The video's called 'Together Forever' and we'd like it."

Sister Lambert sighed ecstatically. I had to wonder if she'd been inhaling too much Jell-O powder or if she was always like this.

"Oh, that's one of my favorites," she gushed. "It's a wonderful film about how families can really overcome life's challenges by following God's plan for them. I know that in my own life..."

Rosalie hit the mute button. "Emmett," she hissed. "If she doesn't wrap this up soon, you're staying on the couch tonight!"

"Maybe if she gets this off her chest, you won't have to move to Siberia," I hissed back before unmuting the nice lady on too much Valium. "That sounds great. Is this where we'd order it?"

"It is," she confirmed. "Can I have your address, please?"

I rattled it off while Rosalie pouted. At least this seemed to be getting to the end of things.

"Great," Sister Lambert said for about the fifth time in a minute. "I know that this video can help you and your wife find greater peace in this life and can improve your understanding of the importance of families in God's plan for us. Now, while we have you on the phone, would you like missionaries from our church contact you?"

"No, no, that's fine," I said to appease Rosalie. "We have the missionaries' number if we're interested."

"Well, that's great," Sister Lambert enthused. "I hope you really enjoy the video and that it can help you. I remember once when..."

"Wait," Rosalie interrupted suddenly.

I turned to stare at her. It wasn't like her to get interested in much of anything on the religious side of things. Luckily, she had a vaguely wicked look in her eyes. This might actually be fun.

"If we gave you the name and address of some family friends of ours, could you send missionaries there?"

"We certainly could," the woman replied. "How wonderful that you're thinking of others."

"Yeah," Rosalie deadpanned. "Let me get you their information..."

A few moments later, we'd finally gotten Sister Lambert off the phone and I followed Rosalie down the stairs. She was finally in a good mood, humming to herself and smirking. If she didn't knock it off soon, this could take a turn for the worse.

Esme was sitting in the living room, reading David Copperfield for about the fiftieth time, but her expression was anything but casual. As soon as we strolled into the room, she looked up sharply and closed her book.

"I heard you were on the phone," she said pointedly.

"Yes," I said before Rosalie could gloat. "We decided to call the number on that card and ask for the video. The lady on the phone was very enthusiastic about it."

Rosalie choked back a laugh, but Esme looked approving of our decision to repent for now. "Good," she said. "Did they say anything else?"

"They offered the missionaries again," Rosalie responded. "We politely declined."

"I should think so," Esme sniffed. "After the way you treated those young men, I have half a mind to rat you out to Carlisle."

"Not necessary," Rosalie said. "We were very nice to the dippy lady on the phone."

Esme narrowed her eyes, waiting for us to give some indication that we had called the lady dippy within her earshot or something worse.

"But you were civil to her?" she prompted.

"Oh, yes," I confirmed. "We even gave her a recommendation of someone else to visit."

Her jaw dropped and she looked even more horrified than when we had brought up our vampiristic tendencies with Baldwin. "You didn't," she breathed.

"We did," Rosalie exulted.

"You sent the Mormons to Volterra?" she snapped.

"No, no, no, no, no!"

I couldn't keep myself from laughing now. That would have been a more amusing thing to do, but we'd had a much better idea.

"They've got missionaries in Alaska," Rosalie explained. "What the Mormons would think of succubi, I'd just love to know."