“Saturday morning at ten.”
Riva took a deep breath, then slowly let it out. “Well, okay, I’ll try it. But only if you promise not to be offended if I don’t like it. Okay?”
“I promise.” Windy slapped her on the back. “But I’m pretty sure you’ll like it.”
Riva turned off the kitchen lights and followed Windy out. She picked up the novel she’d set on a table by the stairway. “Have you startedA Gentleman in Moscowfor our book group yet?”
“I reserved a copy at the library, but it won’t be in until next week.”
“I barely started it, but I’m already pulled in.”
Windy smiled. “I’m not surprised. The synopsis I read of the book reminded me of you.”
“How’s that?”
“Well, it’s about a guy who’s kind of trapped, right?”
Riva frowned at the book cover. “Trapped?”
“Isn’t he sort of imprisoned in a Moscow hotel?”
“Well, yes ... I suppose he is trapped. And that reminds you of me?”
Windy shrugged. “No offense, but when I first met you, I thought you seemed kind of trapped here in your beautiful old home.”
“Oh?” Riva barely nodded.
“Anyway, I think it’ll make for an interesting book group discussion.” Windy started up the stairs. Then, cupping her mouth, she lowered her voice. “Do you think Kitty will participate?”
“I don’t know. I suppose if she finds the TV show...”
“And if Marcus comes.” Windy gave her a sly wink. “That’d get her here.”
They said good night and Windy continued up. But as Riva carried the book to her room, she wondered. Perhaps Windy wasn’t too far from the truth about Riva being somewhat trapped in her home. Did others really see her like that?Trapped and inhibited?She’d never thought of herself like that when she was younger, and she really wasn’t ready to be seen that way now. Hadn’t she been making a lot of changes recently?
Hadn’t she invited strange women to share her home? She’d gone to grief group twice. For Pete’s sake, she’d just danced in the kitchen! And, although it wasn’t a date, she’d had lunch with Marcus today and had even agreed to go The Brewery tomorrow. Not to mention she’d just agreed to go beat on a drum with Windy. Really, that didn’t sound too trapped and inhibited to her. Compared to that stormy dark night when she’d felt so frightened and alone, well, she’d come a long way, baby!
By Friday afternoon, Riva was nervous. She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but the whole house felt charged with a strange kind of energy. At first she thought it was coming fromFiona, who’d been in the library practicing some lively tunes on her mandolin, but even after Fiona left to meet up with her bandmates for dinner, the energy remained. It reminded Riva of a buzzing beehive. She could hear movement upstairs and occasional exchanges between her housemates, and then someone was calling her name.
“I’m in the kitchen,” she yelled back.
“Riva,” Laurel said as she came in with an armload of clothes. “I need help.”
“Help?” Riva put the tea pitcher back in the fridge. “If you want the laundry room, I’m sure no one is using it right now.”
“Not that kind of help, darling.” Laurel tossed her pile onto a stool. “Wardrobe help.”
“Oh?” Riva frowned. “I’m not exactly a fashion diva, Laurel.”
“I like your taste. And you’re far more fashionable than I am.” Laurel held up a bright red blouse. “I usually wear this at Christmastime, but Kitty always makes fun of how drab I dress, so I thought maybe this would punch it up.” She pulled a heavy silver necklace from her tunic pocket. “With this?”
Riva slowly nodded. It really did look like holiday wear. “Uh-huh. What else do you have there?”
Laurel went through several options that screamed “I’m a retired school secretary.” Riva grimaced.
“I think maybe you’re trying too hard,” she told Laurel.
“What do you mean?”
