Jen’s eyes flashed with gratefulness, and I suppose I took that as an invitation to further connect on the issue.
Have you seen Annie? I gestured across the street toward their house, which was as quiet as it had been all summer. I’m a little worried.
I saw her walking with Lena once or twice, Jen said, but I was rushing somewhere and didn’t stop to chat.
I leaned closer to her, wondered if she could sense the way my heartbeat had accelerated. “I think they were together at the party, Annie and Colin. I saw them—”
“Harriet,” Jen said. “Stop.”
I stopped.
Her face went through a range of emotions, and I saw, even in the afternoon shadows, that her eyes were pink and puffy.
“I’m sorry to be abrupt,” she said. “And I understand the desire to speculate, but you must have imagined seeing them together.” Her voice was ragged. “Everyone needs to move on.”
I looked behind Jen, to our neighborhood, bathed in sunshine. Just uphill on Red Fox Lane, a group of children took turns jumping a skateboard over a ramp they’d set up.
I hadn’t seen many kids out since the accident, and their laughter, the hiss and scrape of wheels on pavement, seemed a harbinger. People were starting to feel safe again.
I chose to see the value of Jen’s point.
Everyone needed to move on.
AUGUST
To: “The Best Book Club in the World”
From: [email protected]
To my dearest book club sisters:
It is with heavy heart that I resign my post as book club president. In the best interests of the group, I wanted to excuse myself ASAP so a new, more suitable leadership can take over. If I haven’t yet apologized to you individually, I will.
Acting as your president has been one of my life’s great honors. I know the book club will continue to thrive. I will miss it more than you can imagine.
Your Former President,
Janine
P.S. If I can make one last recommendation, it would be that, in light of recent events, we should switch the Tolstoy for something upbeat and positive. I have humbly attached a list of more suitable titles.
SEPTEMBER
To: “The Best Book Club in the World”
From: [email protected]
Hello ladies! What a deluge of love I’ve received! The letters, the visits, the baked goods （thank you, Lena!!!! Yum! Yum!）！
What choice do I have but to heed your passionate demands and return as president? So: there will be no changing of the guard. In fact, my first order of business will be to AMEND the BYLAWS to allow for LIFETIME APPOINTMENTS! MONARCHY, ANYONE????
（Kidding, kidding, hahahahahahaha ）
The book: THE LITTLE MAGIC BOOKSTORE by Wendy Nolan
I personally found this charming escapist tale about the power of stories to be JUST what the doctor ordered. （And it’s not like Anna Karenina is going anywhere but SPOILER ALERT: the ending would be a little too much right now.）
The place: Harriet Nessel’s house, 8854 Dakota Way.
The time: 7:00 p.m.
To bring: Anything, nothing. Let’s get through this one, ladies. Onward and upward!!!
Your Devoted Book Club President EMPRESS,
Janine
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
The women were already circled around Harriet Nessel’s living room when Jen creaked open the screen door like it was a portal to one year before.
The nonregulars crowding the room, Janine’s frantic welcome speech, Harriet’s impatient glance down to her yellow legal pad, the empty space next to Annie Perley on the couch where Jen squeezed in.
Annie spoke first. How’s Abe?
Good. How’re Laurel and Hank? Jen made a point to keep her voice smooth and easy.
Fine, Annie said, her voice a pitch too high. Everyone’s good.
Jen was relieved. Book club was not the time or place to lay it all bare. The ritual of this—the superficial hum of conversation—was making her feel safer than she had in a while.
Maybe Annie felt the same, although her smile looked pasted on. Lena sat on the other side of Annie, and although she was leaned into a conversation with Priya, Jen could sense her listening to them, ready to swoop in if Jen said the wrong thing.
Lena had to know what Annie had done, right?
Did Mike?
Because Jen hadn’t told Paul—a burr between them, admittedly—but telling him would mean giving it oxygen, examining everything that had happened in a more thorough way.
Jen had allowed it all to happen; she’d made it happen.
Colin had seen her desperation. He’d used the weakest, worst parts of her—her Abe-blindness, her fatigue—as a way in. All year he’d been her yes man, agreeing with her complaints and soothing her worry.