“Thanks for the compliment,” Colin said. “And I’d much prefer that to bagging groceries. But I’ll do it for free.”
“Why don’t I at least ask Nan if it’s okay to hire you?”
If Nan didn’t require medical forms, Jen was pretty sure she would have no objection to helping one of her teaching assistants earn a few extra dollars after school.
There was probably a perfect psalm for the occasion, something about sharing your wheat bounty with your neighbors.
“Really?” Colin said. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”
Jen would later try to reassure herself that her motives were anything but selfish. That warm effusive glow in her chest was the manifestation of generosity. She wasn’t using anyone.
But for the rest of her life, she would never be entirely sure.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
When Lena Meeker arrived at her very first book club meeting, she handed Jen a lovely bottle of Sancerre and a long white pastry box, both of which were slightly damp. With that meticulously flouncy brown layered hair and perfectly applied makeup, Lena sure didn’t look like Cottonwood’s Great Hermit.
And she smelled amazing, like vanilla roses.
“The box got rained on,” Lena said. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be silly,” Jen said. “Annie, how is everything?”
“Fine, fine.” With noticeable effort, Annie forced her mouth into a tight smile. “Sorry again about the scene at Fall Fest.”
“Don’t be. The apology note from Laurel was totally unnecessary—”
“I should introduce Lena around,” Annie said quickly. She placed a proprietary hand on Lena’s shoulder and steered her into the living room.
Jen followed them, and set down Lena’s box on the coffee table. Deb Gallegos was on the couch, wiggling her fingers in greeting.
“How’s Annie doing?” Jen asked.
Deb hiked her eyebrows. “Apoplectic. Poor Laurel will be in lockdown until she’s thirty. I told Annie that they’d all been drinking, including Sierra. Laurel just put on the biggest show.”
Jen nodded.
“They need to be punished, obviously. But we’ve all been there, and we turned out okay, right?”
“Right.”
“Plus”—Deb lowered her voice—“it’s a teensy bit hypocritical because I’ve heard her school stories, and Annie was no saint. So. What do you think is inside that box?”
It sat in front of them on the coffee table, low and long. Pastries of some sort, Jen thought.
“A severed limb,” Jen said, sotto voce.
They both started to chortle at the image: perfect Lena Meeker with the off-the-shoulder cashmere and those giant diamond earrings and the shiny pink manicure getting splattered as she sawed through bone.
“What are you two laughing about?” Janine said. She was carrying a tray of martini glasses filled with Fiona Stolis, which she carefully set down on the coffee table.
“Dismemberment.”
“Obviously, with this book,” Janine said. She handed them each a martini glass and waved over Lena, handed her one, too.
Lena accepted it with a grateful thank you, and folded herself into the love seat opposite them. Her skin sparkled in a way that seemed unnatural for November.
“I’m opening it,” Deb said, and she hummed a burlesque accompaniment—ba-dum-dum—that drew the others over to watch her unloop the string and ease open the box top.
“Wow,” Deb said.
“Unbelievable,” Priya said.
“I’ve never seen anything like that,” Harriet Nessel said.
“Isn’t she amazing?” Annie said.
Lena smiled, pink and pleased, and spun around the box so all could admire the two dozen cupcakes inside, frosted the same hunter green as The Girl in the Woods. On the top of each one, with sugar and icing, Lena had perfectly replicated the cover art: the forest, the female silhouette, the ragged red font, the whole shebang.
“Did you make those from scratch?” Janine asked in awe. “How long did it take?”
“It really wasn’t too bad.”
A massive clap of thunder broke in a loud crack. Janine shrieked, loud and piercing, and clasped her hand to her mouth.
Everyone froze.
“Janine,” Deb Gallegos said. “Calm yourself.”
“Sorry.” Janine took a shaky nervous gulp from her martini glass. “I am on edge, ladies, since the vandal’s pyrotechnics.”
Janine had put the entire book club on her vandal text chain and bombarded it with updates about the vandal’s latest—he’d torched the Thankfulness Tree erected near the playground every November. The blaze hadn’t spread, but the tree was charred enough that they’d dismantled it for the season.