“So-so.” I frowned. “It’s a slow process.”
“You’ll find him,” she said. “I’m starting to think you can do anything. Just hang in there.”
A car slowed on the street beyond my front lawn, and I wrenched the curtain wider. “I think that’s Jeannie’s car,” I said. Then the vehicle backed up and pulled into the driveway. “It is!”
A moment later, she and three others climbed out.
Alicia clapped, then opened the front door to wave from my porch.
My chest tightened, and my eyes lightly stung. “They came.”
“Of course they came,” Alicia said. “Why wouldn’t they?”
I batted away the burgeoning tears and pulled in a shaky breath. How did my life keep getting better when, on paper, everything looked worse? I’d lost my mother and ended a long-term marriage last summer. I’d inherited endless unpaid bills and back taxes. Myhusband had filed for bankruptcy. Yet I’d never felt so filled with peace and joy.
“Welcome,” I called as the foursome piled into my home.
“Sophie!” They shouted my name with wide smiles and open arms, then passed me around, delivering warm hugs and a million words of affirmation.
I introduced the ladies to Ilona, and thirty minutes later we gathered at my dining room table. Alicia opened a second bottle of wine.
“We were so excited when you texted,” Jeannie said. “We refused to have book club without you.”
I grinned, speechless and overwhelmed with gratitude.
“These are delicious,” Jeannie said. “Did you make these?” Something I couldn’t name ignited in her expression.
The other ladies exchanged similar looks.
“I did,” I said. “I’m a pastry chef at Chez Margot now. So my skills are improving all the time.”
“You did it,” Jeannie said. “You were unhappy, and you got out. Now look at you. You have this adorable little home in the cutest neighborhood I’ve ever seen. You’re doing what you love. You look incredible, and I hear you’re about to become a mother-in-law!”
I laughed. “That’s true. They haven’t set a date, but Camilla and Jeff are tying the knot.”
We talked for hours before I walked my friends to Jeannie’s car. As Alicia chatted with the others, Jeannie took my hand and held me back.
“Hey, this is probably nothing,” she said, “but do you remember your old HOA president? Joyce Futes?”
“The angriest woman in Virginia?” I asked. “Why yes. How could I forget?”
Jeannie’s button nose wrinkled. She glanced at Alicia and the others before turning her eyes back to me. “She’s head of the PTA at my kids’ school this year, and she’s a real stickler for parents making big efforts for the many special events and activities. She has a way of quietly tearing down moms who buy cupcakes andtreats instead of making them. She says everything should be customized for the occasion, and she belittles folks who just don’t have time.”
I pressed my lips together. “I’ve known a lot of people like that. I’m sorry you’re experiencing it too.”
Jeannie bit her lip, and for the briefest moment, I thought she might ask me to bake for her.
“Go on,” I said, smile widening.
“Her oldest son plays high school football with one of Alicia’s boys, and apparently he had a delivery job this summer for a company called the Invisible Baker.”
My jaw dropped, and my gaze snapped to Alicia.
She was joking and laughing, obliviously, with the women at Jeannie’s car.
“You know who that is.” Jeannie said. Her words weren’t a question.
My cheeks flared with heat, and my tongue seemed to swell. I didn’t want to lie, but I wasn’t ready to tell the truth, not even to Jeannie. Information spread too easily. This was a perfect example. “I mean—”
