Page 52 of Lemon Pound Cake Club

She smiled warmly.

"I was wondering when you'd get here."

"I stopped by the florist," I said, holding up the bouquet. "I thought flowers might help."

"They always do."

She stepped aside to let me in. The foyer smelled like fresh coffee and casseroles. Pastries sat on the kitchen island, and another woman was adding fruit to a bowl.

The house was busy. Everyone seemed to know what to do. I looked around and saw Camille at the sink, putting muffins on a tray like she’d done it a hundred times.

"Maci."

She smiled easily.

"I'm so glad you made it."

"I'm glad everyone came."

"So am I."

We looked at each other for a moment. Then Miss Evelyn gently touched my elbow.

"Danielle's upstairs; she's barely spoken."

"I'll go check on her."

Miss Evelyn nodded.

"I think she'd like that."

I walked up the stairs slowly, my footsteps quiet on the soft carpet. Every bedroom door was open except one. I knocked softly.

"It's Maci."

There was silence. Then a tired voice came from behind the door.

"Come in."

I opened the door quietly. Danielle sat against the headboard in a big gray sweatshirt, her hair pulled up in a messy bun. A nearly empty box of tissues was beside her.

The television played on mute.

Every so often, the TV showed sheriff’s deputies coming and going from the house, then cut to a reporter standing outside.

She looked up at me.

"I brought you some flowers."

Her swollen eyes shifted to the bouquet, and her face softened.

"They're beautiful."

"I figured your room could use a little color."

She managed a faint smile.

"I think you're right."