Ophelia clapped her hands together once. “I’ve never been in a wedding before.”
“I have,” May admitted. “It’s a lot of fun. It’s also slightly chaotic.”
“I’m committed,” Ophelia said solemnly.
Amka eyed May. “Is there any chance you could be in the wedding and take the photographs?”
“Oh.” May paused, truly touched. “Are you sure?”
“Of course,” Amka said. “Your photographs are the best.”
That was one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to May. “I don’t know how I’m going to do both, but I’ll figure it out.” She’d only been in Knife’s Edge a short time, but somewhere along the way it had stopped feeling temporary. These women weren’t acquaintances. They were good friends. “Where are you getting married?” she asked. They needed to start planning.
“There’s only one church in town,” Amka said. “That part’s easy. The reception will probably be at the tavern. I practically live there, and Christian likes it there. The whole town will show up anyway, so it makes sense.”
“We can spill outside,” Ophelia said, tapping her lip thoughtfully. “We could block off the street and set up tables all the way down.”
May could already see it in her head. “That’s a great idea. We’ll get tablecloths and maybe string some lights across the front.”
“If the whole town’s coming,” Ophelia said, “use the whole town.”
“I love that,” Amka said, happiness radiating from her.
Janet hustled over just then with her hair twisted into a bun and a pencil tucked behind her ear like always. “Hi, ladies.” She didn’t bother with menus. “I’m thinking y’all want the chicken sandwich with fries.”
“Sounds good,” May said.
“I’d like that,” Amka agreed.
Ophelia glanced up. “I was kind of craving a salad, Janet.”
Janet leaned in, lowering her voice like she was delivering classified information. “You don’t want the salad today. Trust me. You want the chicken sandwich.”
Ophelia didn’t argue long. “All right. That’ll be fine, and I’ll take a Pepsi.”
“Coffee for me,” May said.
“I’m good with water,” Amka added.
Janet waved at a group just sitting themselves at a far table. “I’ll let Gus know.” Gus and Janet had owned the place longer than most of the buildings on Main Street had been standing. People ate what Gus told them to eat, and it was always the right call.
When Janet left, Ophelia plopped her elbows onto the table and pointed at May. “All right. Talk.”
The booth felt warmer suddenly, closer, and May knew there was no getting out of it now. She tried very hard not to blush. “All right, so last night?—”
“I knew it,” Ophelia said, clapping her palm lightly against the table. “Sorry.”
“You knew what?” May asked, even though her face was already warm.
“Well,” Ophelia said, leaning back and folding her arms, “you and Ace didn’t come to the tavern last night. Everybody else did. After the tourists were found. So…” She let the rest hang there between them.
From the kitchen came the sizzle of meat hitting hot oil. A bell dinged near the counter. The Green Plate felt normal, busy, and alive. Meanwhile her friends were staring at her like she’d just confessed to arson.
May exhaled. “Ace and I?—”
“Yay,” Amka said under her breath.
“Oh, thank God,” Ophelia said. “It’s about time.”
