Behind the wheel, she sat staring at the house.
Did she love Peter? Or did she honor a lifelong crush? There was a difference and she wasn’t sure she knew it.
She only knew itstillfelt like falling.
Maggie had once considered the Atlanta interstates a form of modern warfare, something to be avoided at all costs. Today, she’d powered her T-bird up from Destin without incident, a much more confident driver after her life-changing road trip to Miami last month.
Still, she was relieved to get off the highway for Jo Ellen’s peanut-sized bladder.
“We can take surface streets to Crista’s neighborhood,” Maggie said when Jo Ellen came out of the mini-mart.
“Good, then let’s take the roof off Scarlett and go full Thelma and Louise,” she suggested as she settled into the passenger seat.
“It’s like you refuse to acknowledge those two die at the end of that movie, Jo.”
She shrugged. “I have a scarf,” she said, whipping out a piece of bright red silk. “I really want to put it on and ride in the convertible like Grace Kelly and Cary Grant inTo Catch a Thief.” She waved her red flag, then playfully put it over her hair and tied it under her chin. “Dotheydie?”
“I don’t remember, but you might die….” Maggie cocked a brow. “Ofembarrassmentif anyone sees you wearing a scarf like that in this century.”
Jo flicked her fingers, not caring. “No oneshouldsee us, Mags,” she reminded her. “Remember, we’re incognito. Does Anthony know you own this car now?”
“I don’t know, but we won’t take a chance. He’s probably still at work. We can sneak in and park in Barbara’s garage. I called her last night and told her I was showing a friend around the neighborhood and asked if she minded if I put you up in her house.”
“‘What a coolliahyou are, Melly,’” Jo drawled the line fromGone With the Windwith an arguably perfect Scarlett O’Hara accent, making Maggie chuckle. How far her Yankee college roommate had come.
“We’ll see how cool I am when I accidentally find myself face to face with Anthony.”
“We won’t come face to face with him,” Jo Ellen said with far more assurance than Maggie felt. “And if we do, I’ll make something up. You know it’s my secret weapon.”
One she hoped they didn’t need to wield.
The old Thunderbird purred beneath them, the warm evening sun making Atlanta’s wealthy suburbs glimmer like a magazine spread. Maggie took the last curve off a wide boulevard lined with homes that had columns, arched windows, and drama.
What happened behind all those closed doors? Cheating? Betrayal? Or…that happily ever after that every woman wants?
Maggie inhaled, then let it out slowly. “I so hope she’s wrong about Anthony,” she murmured, as much to herself as Jo Ellen. “Because if she isn’t, I’ll never trust my character judgment again.”
“I’m sure you’re right, Mags,” Jo Ellen said. “And we’re going to prove it. By the time we turn around and head back to Destin, we will have completely cleared Anthony of any wrongdoing, and we can tell Crista to rest easy and grow that baby.”
Maggie threw her a grateful look. “From your lips to God’s ears, Jo. I don’t want to think about being wrong on this.”
They turned into Crista’s neighborhood and the street widened, smooth as silk, with lush lawns that looked professionally manicured. Tall oaks arched overhead, their branches meeting like a cathedral ceiling. Everything was green, polished, and orderly, including Crista’s dream home that sat in the middle of one of the prettiest streets.
“We do have to pass Crista’s to get to Barbara’s house,” Maggie said. “I hope he’s not home early from work looking out the window.”
“Or home early looking…at his mistress.”
“Jo Ellen!”
“Just kidding,” she said quickly. “I know he’s not. You know he’s not. We’re here to make sure Crista knows he’s not.”
Maggie just bit her lip as they approached the brick Colonial she called home. Funny, she thought as she glanced at the place that really had been a sanctuary for her these last three years. It didn’t look like home anymore.
Still beautiful, still a monument to good taste and elegance, but was it home? For Crista, Anthony, Nolie, and a baby-to-be? Of course. But, oddly enough, Maggie didn’t have even the slightest twinge of homesickness or longing.
“That’s my room, in the front on the first floor,” she said, not slowing down too much as they passed.
“Such a pretty house,” Jo Ellen cooed.
