“Hey!” Molly stands, genuinely glad to see her. She introduces Sabrina to Hunter and Stella, enduring a stab of annoyance when Hunter’s eyes linger on Sabrina’s slim, bronzed legs stemming out of white cutoffs. Molly could never get away with wearing shorts that short—not in this town.
But she isn’t worried—not actually. Hunter is a good man, as faithful as they come, and he swings his arm around Molly’s shoulder in what she knows is an apology for accidentally admiring another woman’s figure. “Great to meet you,” he says cheerfully.
“Likewise.” Sabrina tips her head back, gazing up at the sun. “God, it’s nice out. Summer finally decided to show up.”
“Your husband couldn’t make it?” Molly asks.
Sabrina rolls her eyes, then slides a pair of tortoise-shell sunglasses down from the crown of her head. She adjusts them on the bridge of her small, straight nose. “He had a work thing come up last minute.”
“On a holiday?” Stella chirps, and Molly can’t help but smile at her daughter, whose incredible five-year-old mind is constantly impressing her.
“On a holiday.” Sabrina nods, lifting her shoulders and flipping her palms up. “Crazy, I know.” She turns to Molly. “But I wanted to come, anyway. From what I gather, this parade is a pretty big spectacle.”
“It’s fun,” Molly admits, shifting her weight to one hip. “It’s definitely a big Flynn Cove event. And a blast for the kids.” She pauses, cringing internally at how old she sounds. And a blast for the kids.
“She’s beyond adorable.” Sabrina glances at Stella, who has turned her attention to her best friend, Jade Patel, near a cluster of bikes beside them. Hunter has started chatting with Jade’s father. “She has your coloring.”
“Stella’s an awesome kid.” Molly smiles. “Very curious. Nonstop questions.”
“That’s so fun.” There’s a trace of sadness in Sabrina’s voice.
“You’ll have your own, very soon I’m sure.” Molly twists her hair back into a low bun, securing it with a clip.
“Sabrina!”
Molly recognizes the voice. It’s Meredith Duffy, who has stood fifteen feet from Molly and Hunter all morning, but avoided eye contact until now. Her stomach flips. She hadn’t realized Sabrina knew Meredith. She isn’t sure why this makes her feel so insecure.
Meredith approaches them, hooked arm in arm with Edie Kirkpatrick—a gesture that reminds Molly of high school, the way she and her best friend, Rachel, used to link elbows on their way to class.
“And, Molly, hello.” Meredith’s and Edie’s smiles are matching, saccharine sweet. Their foreheads are shiny and lineless, and they each hold giant iced teas from Gwen’s. If they’re judging the length of Sabrina’s short shorts, it isn’t obvious.
“Don’t the kids’ bikes look sensational?” Meredith glances in the direction of her daughter, Emma, who’s in Stella’s class at Flynn Cove Elementary. Emma’s bike is more bedecked than Stella’s, an enormous cluster of red, white, and blue balloons fastened to the seat, swaying majestically in the breeze.
Edie’s son Walker is a year older, but many of the kindergarten and first-grade mothers seem to flock together. Molly met them this way, through their children, when she and Hunter moved to Flynn Cove in time for Stella to start preschool. That was almost three years ago now, but Molly is still cognizant of her role as a somewhat outsider. It isn’t just that they don’t belong to the country club, though she’s sure that’s a piece of it. Molly was only twenty-six when she had Stella—it happened before she and Hunter were ready, honestly—and her younger age is something she feels in the presence of women like Meredith and Edie and Betsy, who are all pushing forty and well onto their second and third children. They’ve never seemed to get Molly, who arrived in Flynn Cove at age twenty-nine, wearing worn Converse and mala beads, her hair untamed, a three-year-old on her hip. As the years passed and Molly never conformed to their bright, preppy clothing and enthusiasm for things like the garden club, their confusion seemed to morph into a kind of mild distaste, even resentment.
“And how do you all know each other?” Meredith glances between Molly and Sabrina, her curiosity clearly piqued.
“Molly and I met when I took her amazing yoga class earlier this month,” Sabrina gushes.
“Ah! How lovely. I’ve simply got to get to your class one of these days, Molly.” Meredith gives a forced grin, and Molly has to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Meredith says the same thing nearly every time they see each other, and Molly knows the words are empty. She’ll never actually show up at class.