“Wait,” Joan said. “Are you talking about Diane Miller?”
“Yes!” Irene said brightly. “Remember? She was desperate to be one of us. I always thought she suspected something.”
“We’ll never know because Diane Miller died right after college,” Joan said flatly.
Irene and Frances gasped. “How?” Frances asked.
“Car wreck. What about Pat Forrester?”
“Pat Forrester!” Irene exclaimed. “That insufferable math genius? Your stupid roommate? Not to mention Pat Forrester is a man, Joan. We’re a girl gang.”
“Maybe we should be a senior citizens gang now since our numbers are drying up. Any warm body will do, won’t they? I mention Pat because he was dressing in my clothes back then, which could be an excellent cover if you think about it. He might want to give it a go.”
“No,” Irene said.
“I agree with Irene,” Frances said. “We don’t invite a man in because he’s worn a dress.”
“That is so …discriminatory,” Joan complained.
Frances’s phone rang. She picked it up to see Marjorie’s name on the display. “I’m going to take this.” She got out of her chair and walked to the door of her room while Irene continued to espouse her many opinions of men.
“Franny? Is that you? Where are you? You sound like you’re in a tunnel,” Marjorie said when Frances answered.
“I’m in Tennessee.” Frances dumped the contents of her bag onto the bed and sorted through her meds until she found the blue pain pills. She glanced at the label and noticed her vision was slightly blurry. That was new. And not good.
“Tennessee sounds wonderful. Anyway, it’s over between me and Dan.”
Frances blinked at the sudden change of topic. She sat heavily on the end of the bed. “Your forever guy?”
“I gave his cheap ring back.” Marjorie sighed. “I got sick of him. He can’t hear, and he won’t wear his hearing aids, and he never wants to do anything but watch golf and Fox News all daylong. So, when he asked me if I could get him a cup of coffee, I told him to get out, we were through.”
“Damn, Marge. That didn’t last long.”
“Nothing lasts long at our age. I don’t have time to waste. What are you doing in Tennessee, anyway? Does Aaron know you’re there?”
For the love of Pete, Marjorie was far more concerned with Frances’s son than she was. “Yes, I texted him,” Frances lied. She had called Aaron from a truck stop in Oklahoma and assured him she was fine and going to the doctor like she was supposed to. None of that was true. She’d turned into such a terrible liar recently. Or rather, not a terrible one, as she seemed to do it with ease. But a prolific one.
“But why are you in Tennessee?” Marjorie asked, sounding suspicious.
“I’ve told you. I’m seeing old friends. One of my old friends and I are visiting another old friend. Who happened to be my best friend many years ago.”
“Who?”
Why had she even said that? “Um … Nancy,” Frances said, pulling the name from air. Now, that sounded like a lie.
Marjorie clearly thought so, too. “Nancy who?”
“Nancy … Reagan.”
That was met with silence.
“I know, wild coincidence, right? She gets looks all the time.”
“Seriously, Fran?”
“Seriously. But it was a bust. We had a falling-out a long time ago, a bad one, and I was hoping she’d be over it, but she’s not, so …” To her amazement, her eyes suddenly filled with tears. Edie’s rejection had hurt more than she’d realized. She said, tearfully, “I was really hoping she would be. Isn’t that silly? It’s been more than forty years, and I was hoping she’d let it go. But I guess I’m going to my grave without reconciling.” She blanched the moment those words tumbled out of her mouth, her belly clenching at the thought of a grave.
“I know how that is,” Marjorie said. “I never did make amends with my sister and then she died on me. When are you coming back? You’re my best friend now, and I miss you!”
