“It’s not your fault,” I said.
“I’ll talk to her.”
“Don’t.”
I held out my hand for the folder. I didn’t know exactly what I would do with it yet. Part of me wanted to run into the house and scream and rant and throw the pictures in Mitch’s face right then. But another part of me said,Wait. Bide your time. Let him think he’s so slick.
And, honestly, I was too tired for another screaming match.
“So can I expect that hundred dollars from our bet now or later?” Mom asked.
I closed my eyes as I remembered her words:I’ll bet you a hundred bucks right here and now that there is another woman.
Then I laughed at the absurdity of it all. One glance at Mom’s twinkling eyes, and I could see that had been her intention all along.
But damn I hated it when she was right.
Before we could bring the conversation to another topic, George appeared with Rucker. “Hello, ladies!”
“Hey, George,” we all said.
“Oh, I see there’s a fourth lady!”
“This is my mom, Heidi,” I said.
“A pleasure,” George said. “What are we drinking this evening?”
“Tonight, since we have Vivian’s mom with us, I broke out something special: a Freemark Abbey cabernet that we should probably be pairing with steak,” Rachel said.
George held out his Solo cup, gratefully accepted a pour, and took a sip. “Delightful. As always.”
“Thanks.” Rachel preened a little. She deserved it since she always did a good job with her wine selections.
“Any news?” asked Abi as she returned to knitting a multicolor scarf.
“Well, you already know about Harriet so—”
“Harriet?” Abi and Rachel said in unison. Then they both looked at me.
“Look, if you really wanted to know, then you would’ve gone to the HOA meeting,” I said.
George got them up to speed on Harriet’s reappearance and then excused himself because—and no surprise to any of us, really—Dawn was headed our way.
“What’s up with Harriet?” Mom asked.
“Well, she and her husband had a nasty divorce,” Abi started.
I winced.
“Sorry, Viv.”
“It is what it is. Carry on.”
“Anyway, she was also trying to homeschool her son and got frustrated with his math homework—”
“And no doubtlife,” added Rachel.
“So she set a fire in the backyard. It started with her son’s math textbook and then became a bonfire of her husband’s possessions.”
