Page 90 of Lemon Pound Cake Club

Thursday mornings have always been my favorite.

Before the doorbell starts ringing.

Before life reminds us why we need each other.

It's just the two of us in the kitchen.

My baking partner humming off-key while stealing bites before everything has time to cool.

They swear they can't bake, but somehow every Thursday morning still belongs to us.

I hope we never lose this.

Some traditions deserve to outlive the people who start them. I stared at that last line longer than I thought I would. Then I closed the journal and went back to getting food ready for the meeting.

By six that evening, Camille’s house buzzed with conversation. It felt like any other Thursday night. The dining table was loaded with desserts.

I placed my lemon-glazed brioche French toast in the center on a white serving platter.

"I knew that was yours."

Danielle pointed at it as soon as I walked in.

"I can’t wait to taste that. French toast is my favorite."

I laughed out loud.

"I wanted to switch it up."

"You switched it all the way up."

Nia was already grabbing herself a piece.

"This looks bougie."

"It tastes bougie too," Simone added after one bite.

Camille raised her wineglass from across the room.

"I'm beginning to think inviting Maci into this neighborhood was the best decision we've made all year."

Everyone burst out laughing.

"So," Jade said, settling onto the sofa, "how's everybody been?"

The conversation flowed smoothly from person to person. Camille acted as the perfect hostess, topping off her glass. Her cheeks were lightly flushed.

Danielle leaned forward.

"I finally got a call from Detective Warren."

Everyone turned to look at her.

"They ruled Anthony's death a suicide."

A quiet hush fell over the room. I glanced around, noticing everyone’s expressions.

Danielle lowered her eyes.