Page 37 of Return To You

There’ll be alcohol at Game Night, so I want to get there hydrated.

“Ready, Damian?”

He trots to his litter box.

Total dog vibes.

I brush my teeth, fix my makeup, then pick up Damian. “Let’s have some girl time.”

He meows.

“You’re a cat. You’re allowed.”

Cassandra’s shop is in a cute cape house twinkling with fairy lights. I park the jeep, pick up Damian, and round to the back where laughter and light spill out of the partly open windows. Pushing the door open, I’m taken in by warm hellos from everywhere.

Mom and Lynn are sprawled on the white sectionals in the back right corner, playing gin rummy with Suzy Parker and my receptionist, Claudia Fletcher. Their bare feet rest on gold and pink pillows, and white bubblies occupy their free hands.

Ms. Angela and her posse are hunched over Emerald Creek’s mystery game, an adaptation of Clue where intimate knowledge of the town’s gossip is key to winning.

Haley brings them her variation of a Moscow mule, setting their drinks on off-white felt coasters, then returns behind a mirrored bar, pouring one of her new wine-like inventions into stem glasses.

Other women are gathered in small groups, chatting or playing games, munching and drinking.

My friends are sprawled on the left side of the room, soy candles softly flickering around them. Autumn, a newly established decorator, is there, and so is Kiara, a talented pastry chef. She jumps up when she sees me. “You brought Damian!” she shrieks and grabs my cat from my arms. “Come here you little scoundrel, you little rascal. Tickle tickle tickle.”

Damian makes himself soft as a rag doll and lets her have her way with him.

I kick my shoes off and drop my offering of lotions and serum samples on a small table next to the door for the ladies to take on their way out, then settle in a pink bean bag next to my friends, letting the girly vibes of Cassandra’s she-shed mellow me. Digging my toes in the faux fur throw rug, I inhale the subtle aroma of small bouquets spread throughout the room, admire her new golden trinkets, the mirrors reflecting tea light candles, making mental notes for my own spa.

Haley hands me a stem glass filled with a bubbly, purple beverage and takes a seat next to me.

Haley’s experiments aren’t always conclusive. “What’s this one?” I’d rather be prepared.

“It’s raspberry wine. What d’you think about it?”

The sharp yet floral notes hit my palate with a burst of bubbles. “Delicious. Wow. Raspberries?”

“I’m totally using that in my Christmas pastries this year,” Kiara says, still holding Damian. “I don’t know how yet. You have any ideas?” she asks Haley.

I strain to focus on the conversation that follows between the two, but my mind keeps wandering. To Christmas and secret Santas. To New Years and mistletoe. To swimming at the lake… to other things at the lake.

“Sorry I’m late! What did I miss?” Alex asks as she enters the room. “Oh good—you’re here,” she says to me. As she walks to the back of the room where the bar is, she’s greeted by everyone, and it warms me to see how well loved she is in Emerald Creek, and how she’s now part of our small-town family.

“Munchies,” she announces as she sets a tray on the bar and snatches one of the glasses Haley poured and left on the bar for anyone to help themselves. Settling with us, she asks me, “So—what do we know? What are you doing?”

I haven’t done anything since Saturday. Mainly, I’ve been going day-to-day like a zombie, unable to take action. “I still haven’t heard from Richardson, but I know the price is out of my reach.”

“Who’s Richardson?” Alex asks.

“Georgie?” Ms. Angela chimes in from her station at the middle of the room. “He’s the landlord.”

“You were going to buy it?” Kiara says, petting Damian as he climbs up her shoulder.

“I have a right of first refusal, so I’ll know when it sells. Not that I can afford it, so really… not that useful.” The din of conversation dies down as everyone listens in.

Kiara sits cross-legged at my feet. “But you’ll know ahead of time if you need to move, right?”

“I guess.”

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