“Good. Now hand me those grapes.”
The Circle arrivedat seven with their usual flair.
Eleanor came first, juggling wine bottles and a canvas she’d forgotten to drop at the gallery. Vivian’s bracelets announced her presence before she’d even reached the porch. Letty trailed perfume that probably violated some EPA regulation.
“Smells like a department store exploded,” Nadine said, waving her hand in front of her nose.
“It’s called glamour, Nadine. You should try it sometime.”
“I tried it in 1987. Didn’t take.”
Margo smiled from the kitchen doorway as they settled into their spots — Eleanor by the window, Vivian claiming the good end of the couch, Letty and Nadine bickering their way to the armchairs they’d occupied for thirty years.
Fiona emerged from the hallway looking uncertain. “Should I?—”
“Sit.” Vivian patted the cushion beside her. “We don’t bite. Well, Nadine does, but only after midnight.”
“That is ridiculous.”
“We have witnesses.”
Fiona sat, accepting the wine glass Eleanor pressed into her hand. Margo watched her take a sip, then another. Good. The girl needed to relax.
The first hour passed the way Circle hours always did. Vivian reported that her nephew had finally proposed to his girlfriend — “Only took him eleven years and my explicit threat to write him out of my will.” Letty shared that the new owner of the Cypress Gallery had asked her on a date.
“How’d that go?” Margo asked, settling into her chair with the cheese plate.
“He took me to a restaurant where they serve the bread in a tiny shopping cart.”
“A what?”
“A tiny. Shopping. Cart.” Letty reached for more wine. “I told him I don’t date men who can’t hand me bread like a normal person.”
“Reasonable boundary,” Eleanor said.
“I thought so.”
Fiona laughed. Margo caught Eleanor’s eye. Progress.
The conversation drifted to town gossip, to grandchildren updates, to Nadine’s ongoing war with theHOA about her garden gnomes. Fiona listened, occasionally smiled, slowly unclenched.
By nine, she was stifling yawns.
“Go to bed, dear,” Eleanor said. “Sleep’s no joke at our age.”
Fiona stood, smoothing her shirt. “Thank you. For including me.”
“It’s been a pleasure to meet you.” Vivian raised her glass. “And you’ve raised a wonderful daughter.”
“Hear, hear.”
“Absolutely.”
“To Fiona.”
Fiona smiled, small but noticeable, and disappeared down the hallway.
The room settled into a different quiet. Margo felt four sets of eyes drift toward her.
