Page 12 of Conspiracies and Chemistry

TESSA

My electric SUV slid silently to a stop in front of a two-story home in suburban Sacramento. It wasn’t the one that interested me. I glared at the nearly identical house next door, the one with two cars in the driveway and another three on the street in front, including a red Porsche convertible.

Yet my friend was inside, alone.

The four of us had met a little over a year ago after we’d walked out of a self-help seminar, and now, they were among my closest friends. I’d do almost anything for them. Which was why I was in Sacramento on Thanksgiving, which I usually spent with my cats, being thankful my father didn’t believe in the holiday.

I took a moment to scroll up to today’s first group text.

Goddess Gang

Savannah

Can I vent for a sec? Jason invited *work colleagues* to Thanksgiving without telling me! The worst part is - they’re here, and he’s not.

Carly

Oh no! Do you have enough food? Need me to Red Rover something?

Lucie

Why are you even there? I should’ve invited you to Danny’s mom’s. There’s like 50 people here. They wouldn’t have noticed one more. It’s a lot, but at least your soon-to-be-ex isn’t here.

Savannah

My sons are home. I thought we could have one last family Thanksgiving.

That had pierced even my cold heart. I knew about wanting things my family couldn’t provide. I’d started to respond, but then Savannah’s next text had come through.

Savannah

Scratch that. The worst part is now Jason’s here…and so is his girlfriend.

I’d almost flamed up at that. Before I knew it, my keys were in my hand.

@Savannah, go someplace public and safe. I’ll pick you up.

Savannah

No! Don’t go to the trouble. I’m fine, just venting.

Be there in two hours

There was more after that, mostly Savannah trying to take back what she’d said and our other two friends trying to convince Savannah to leave (Carly) or to tell off her husband (Lucie). But like I’d promised, I was on the road.

The situation was untenable. Savannah had been a stay-at-home mom for the past twenty-plus years and had no separate funds to speak of. She thought she had no choice but to remain in the home she shared with her husband and put up with whatever bullshit he served up until their divorce was final and she got her half of their property.

She was wrong.

When I parked in front of the house next door, I sent a final text.

I’m here. Be ready.

I exited my car and stalked up the front walk. I knocked on the door but didn’t wait for an answer before I tried the latch. It was unlocked, so I let myself in.

The sunny foyer was spotless and pine scented. It emptied into an open-plan living room, dining room, and kitchen. When they bought the place, my optimistic friend must have imagined cooking meals while her family chatted with her from the cushy upholstered stools at the peninsula that divided the kitchen from the living room. Or that her family would be drawn into the airy kitchen to help.

But that wasn’t happening today.

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