Page 20 of Best Served Cold

Hannah snorts. “New idea. If they insisted on planning it, they can unplan it. We can make much better use of our time than doing their dirty work for them.”

“You’re right,” I say, even though the idea brings on a wave of panic. No one likes it when other people give them work, and Mrs. Price only tolerates me because I let her have her way all the time. But it doesn’t matter anymore. I no longer have anyone to impress. It’s over.

It’s over.

That thought pushes me closer to the sadness ooze, but I’m surprised by a feeling of…relief. I never really believed Jonah was mine forever. It always felt like I was on the verge of doing or saying something that would push him away.

“So are we confronting him?” Hannah asks. “How do we want to do it?”

“I don’t know,” Briar says, fidgeting with her hair again. “I try not to hold onto negativity. Besides, why would he agree to meet with us? If he gets his phone’s data transferred onto a new device, he’ll see the messages we exchanged. He’ll know that his secret is fully out.”

“GingerBeerBabe never responded,” I point out. “Anyway, don’t you think he’s going to try to smooth this over with at least one of us? He obviously doesn’t enjoy being alone if he has four girlfriends.”

“He’ll try to smooth it over withyou,” Briar says, almost sadly. “You’re the one he wanted to marry.”

She likely didn’t say that to spike my anxiety, but my heart starts racing.

“I threw my engagement ring at his face. I shouted at him in front of your dad. You don’t think he’ll take that as a sign?”

Briar glides her hand over mine. “I think he’s a man who’s used to getting what he wants, regardless of what other people think about it. That’s why he’s so good at what he does.”

The alarm on my phone goes off, reminding me I’m supposed to be at work in fifteen minutes. I stare at it in consternation. “I don’t think I can go to work today. I’m a little tipsy.”

“We should all call in sick,” Hannah says.

Briar surprises me by agreeing. “You’re right. My dad can’t yell at me if I’m not there.”

He can still do it later, but I won’t burst her bubble. I understand the need for a silver lining.

I’m going to have to find a new one in this mess.

“Let’s,” I say.

Seconds later, before any of us have the chance to call in sick, Dottie bustles up to the table.

“Oh, delightful,” she says, clapping her hands together. “You’ve finished your tea.”

Without asking, she pushes in next to me again, bringing a scent of fresh lavender. “Who would like to go first?”

Briar glances at me with a glimmer of unease in her eyes, and I smile at her before saying, “Maybe we should push them all into a row.”

We line up our cups, mine first, then Briar’s, then Hannah’s.

Dottie gets to work, rotating the cups, draining the excess liquid and then flipping them back over. Briar watches her as if she’s performing emergency surgery; Hannah looks like she’s rubbernecking. I’m studying themandher.

Finally, Dottie looks back up at us, beaming. “You all have the same symbol in your cups, in the same place. This very rarely happens.”

“What does it look like?” Briar asks, on the hook.

“A dog at the top of your cup is a symbol of friendship.”

I glance into the cups, a little dubious. The blobs just look like clumps of leaves to me. Admittedly, they each have a small clump attached to a larger clump, which could—with liberal imagination—be a dog.

“You are at the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” She glances between each of us. “That’s what you must remember, my dears. This is a beginning, not an end. You may not be marrying that young man, Sophie, but you’re creating a much more important bond. With yourself and these other delightful women. All of you are. This isyourtime, my dears. Be happy for it. Paint and be young and make beautiful mistakes so you can learn from them. Oh, I’m excited for you. This is your opportunity to do everything you never thought you could. And you’ll have each other for support, just like my Wise Women Group.”

It’s foolish to think she’s professed words that are going to change my life, but that tingle traveling down my spine says otherwise.

“You know…” Dottie says slowly. “I usually don’t read my own leaves, but this morning, I felt the urge to look. What do you think I saw in there?”

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