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She’d spent days trying to justify her actions. The saintly side of Eliza chirped that the spontaneous invite had been an act of kindness, a way of looking out for the young girl who’d been swooped under her husband’s dark wing. She was keeping an eye on Penny, watching to see how the fallout would go.
The ambivalent side of Eliza barked that it was curiosity—and nothing more—that had prompted the invitation. Who was the other woman? The younger, prettier, sweeter, kinder woman who’d stolen her husband’s eye. Had it been Penny who’d gone after Roman, or had it been the other way around?
But the truly honest part of Eliza wondered if it was from a place of hurt. If the tiny vestiges of vulnerability that were left of Eliza, the part buried so deep, it took half a bottle of red to tease them out, had spurred her to act. In a way, Eliza was proud that a sensitive part of her still existed, proud that Roman hadn’t taken that, too. Beneath Eliza’s hardened, calloused outer layers, there was still a rawness left inside her—deep down maybe, but it was there. And that raw, hopeful young woman had once loved Roman Tate.
Fortunately for Penny, she was saved from an awkward conversation by another knock. Eliza excused herself and made her way to the front entrance. She opened the door to find a familiar face smiling back at her. Familiar but different.
Speaking of wilted, Eliza thought with one glance at her friend. Poor Anne.
“Sorry I’m late,” Anne said robotically. “Kids.”
“We haven’t started yet. Are you feeling okay? You look a little peaked.”
“Lots going on,” Anne said with the glimmer of a long-lost smile. “I don’t want to talk about it. I’d just ruin the night for everyone. Do you have wine?”
“I do…if you’re sure that will help?” Eliza led Anne through the hallway and into the kitchen.
In answer, Anne reached for the bottle of wine and poured herself a glass. To the tippy, tippy top.
“Well, book club is a safe space to discuss your problems,” Eliza said. “Especially since we’re among friends. Obviously, no introductions are needed, since the two of you already know each other, so let’s get started.”
Penny already had a canapé in her mouth. “It’s good to see you, Anne. How’d Gretchen do on her history test this week?”
“Aced it,” Anne said with a weak smile. “Thanks to you of course.”
Penny waved Anne off like it was nothing.
“Are you sure I can’t get you wine, Penny?” Eliza asked, politely ignoring Anne’s empty glass. “We have a little left.”
“I’ll take her portion if she’s abstaining.” Anne extended her glass. “I guess I was thirsty.”
“It’s yours.” Penny nodded toward Anne. “I’m not feeling well. Bit of a stomach bug.”
Anne’s eyes followed Penny’s hand as it went to her belly. “Are you pregnant?”
Penny’s mouth popped open in shock.
“Oh God!” Anne’s face went red with embarrassment. “That’s the wine talking. I’m such an idiot, and it’s none of my business. Forget I said anything. It’s just…you told me you were seeing that guy, and—”
“You’re seeing someone?” Eliza’s grip tightened. “Is it new? How exciting. Come on, spill. We need the details.”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Penny said. “Really, it’s stupid.”
“I’m the stupid one,” Anne said. “I can’t believe I said that. Seriously, it’s the wine. I haven’t had a drink in ages.”
Eliza knew that to be a lie. She wondered if Penny was lying, too. Were they all lying?
“No, you’re right,” Penny said. “I was seeing a guy, but things sort of petered out.”
“Then it’s a good thing you aren’t pregnant, isn’t it?” Anne chuckled nervously and sipped more wine. “Anyhoo, enough of that. Take it away, Eliza. How does book club work?”
“Well, as you know, I invited you all here to discuss Marguerite’s New York Times bestseller, Take Charge. Her next book is coming out in a few months, so I thought we could have that be our second read.”
“Works for me,” Anne said, her words beginning to slur ever so slightly. “Even though I only read the first half of the book. Okay, that’s a lie. I skimmed it. Nope, I read the chapter headings. I have four kids. I don’t have time to read!”
“Just read the next one,” Eliza said. “That’s the important bit anyway. Now bring your glasses and follow me.”
The three women took their books into the sitting room. Eliza and Anne carried their wineglasses with them. Penny asked for a coaster for her sparkling water. Each of them pulled out her book; Penny’s was worn and ragged, Anne’s was unopened but had a splatter of something that looked like ketchup on the outside, and Eliza’s looked brand new.
