“What kind of opinions?”
“The heroine should have just told him the truth in chapter three. Would have saved everyone two hundred pages of miscommunication.”
“That’s not an opinion, that’s a manifesto.”
“I contain multitudes.”
Hazel is settling into her usual spot with a notebook, because Hazel always has a notebook. Grandma Hensley is already eating cheese, having apparently decided that the meeting has unofficially started. Amber is pouring wine with a heavy hand. Mads is texting someone, probably Asher, with a soft smile on her face.
And then the door chimes, and Jo practically leaps out of her chair.
“She’s here!”
A woman walks in, and even from across the room, I can feel her energy. Blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing a flowy blue top and white jeans, an expression that suggests she’s genuinely delighted to be alive on a random Thursday evening.
Emma. The photographer from the marina.
“Sorry I’m late,” she says, slightly breathless. “Millie couldn’t find her homework, Aidan decided he needed to tell me the entire plot of a YouTube video about deep-sea creatures, and Jenna is currently not speaking to me because I suggested she might want to unplug from her phone for five minutes.”
“Sounds about right,” Hazel says sympathetically. “How old?”
“Fifteen, ten, and eight.”
“You’re in the trenches. It gets better.”
“Does it?”
“No. But you get better at faking sanity.”
Emma laughs, and the sound is warm and infectious. Jo ushers her toward an empty chair, and introductions happen in the chaotic, overlapping way they always do at book club.
“Emma just moved here,” Jo explains. “She’s a photographer. She did my bridal shots at the marina.”
“The marina?” Grandma Hensley’s eyes light up. “Isn’t that where that grumpy fellow lives? The one who owns the place?”
Emma’s smile flickers, just for a second. “Paul. Yes. He’s my…neighbor.”
“Neighbor,” Grandma Hensley repeats, in a tone that suggests she’s filing this information away for later investigation. “Interesting.”
“It’s really not.”
“That’s what they all say.” Grandma Hensley pulls out a notepad, the one withDetective Noteswritten on the cover in sparkly gel pen. “And then suddenly it’s very intriguing indeed.”
Emma looks slightly alarmed. Michelle pats her arm. “Don’t worry. She does this to everyone. It’s her love language.”
“Observation is a gift,” Grandma Hensley says primly. “I simply choose to share it.”
We settle in with our books. This month’s pick isComing Home Again, a second-chance romance about a woman who keeps leaving and the man who keeps waiting for her to stay.
I did not choose this book. I want that on the record.
“Okay,” Jessica says, opening her copy. “Who wants to start?”
“I will,” Amber says. “I thought it was beautiful but also deeply stressful. Every time she ran, I wanted to reach into the pages and shake her.”
“She had reasons,” Mads counters. “Trauma responses aren’t logical. She wasn’t running because she didn’t love him. She was running because she did, and that terrified her.”
“But he kept waiting,” Michelle says. “Every time she left, he just…stayed. And welcomed her back. Doesn’t that get exhausting?”
