“First, this is a business call.” I pour myself another mimosa, which seems like the perfect first step when it comes to starting a business call or baking a pie. “This pie is vitally important to our business in ways that I will soon explain. And second, we are not rooting for me to bang anyone.”
“Explain to me how this pie is going to help us secure a loan,” Jackie says.
“Maybe she’s going to poison someone with it?” Chelsey adjusts her blond ponytail before starting another round of crunches. “Because that actually sounds a little on brand for you. Or at least for your food.”
I choose to ignore that last comment because it’s not entirely wrong. I’ve subjected my roommates to an array of poorly cooked meals. Jackie even bought me an apron for my birthday a few years back that says If you see me wearing this, say you already ate. I catch the girls up on what’s transpired over the last twenty-four hours, including the part where my father invited my ex-husband over for dinner with his new girlfriend.
“And you’re sure that was your ring you saw?” Chelsey has switched from sit-ups to spiked sparkling water, as one does when there’s hot tea being spilled. “Maybe he just had something made to look like your old ring?”
“How would that be any less creepy?” Jackie throws her hands in the air. “I mean, what kind of juice box would pull that ducking spit?”
Jackie’s six-year-old niece Aubree has joined the chat, so our swearing is extra creative.
“It was definitely my ring. It’s an art deco solitaire. The stone isn’t even a diamond. It’s a moonstone, which will probably mean nothing to Sarah, but it meant everything to me. It was his mother’s ring, which is why I gave it back in the first place.” I take a heavy breath. “I guess it never occurred to me that he’d someday give that ring to someone else.”
“Maybe you can ask him to give you your ring back,” Aubree suggests in between bites of pumpkin bread.
Jackie mouths Sorry, but I don’t mind. There’s something kind of sweet about having a kindergartner help troubleshoot my problems. Maybe if I’m lucky, she’ll be able to tell me how to bake a pie.
“I can’t, sweetie.” I smile. “It doesn’t belong to me anymore.”
“Maybe you can ask his mom to give you another ring.”
“Oh.” A wave of emotion catches me off guard. Maybe it’s muscle memory, but without thinking, my head turns toward the dining room window and I allow myself to look at Smith’s house. “I wish I could, but she passed away.”
“That happened to my hamster,” Aubree commiserates. “I accidentally fed her too much chocolate and she died.”
“That’s how I’d like to go,” Chelsey says. “Or in bed with a guy built like a—”
“Shut up, Chelsey,” Jackie mutters.
The front door creaks open. Ozzie gives a half-hearted bark from his spot under the breakfast table. My father’s voice carries through the house, and I can make out the tail end of a conversation about Madagascar.
“Fudgesicle. I’ve got company,” I say. “Looks like I’m going to need to cut this meeting short.”
“You’re going to be fine,” Chelsey says. “Even if the pie sucks, I know you’re going to be able to get your dad on board. I can feel it.”
“But to be clear, on board does not mean your dad is going to be the unofficial fourth member of the Smut Coven.” Jackie points her finger at the screen. “Foursomes never work. Look at Destiny’s Child.”
“What’s Destiny’s Child?” Aubree asks.
“Good lord, educate the children, Jackie.” Chelsey sighs.
“I’ll check in with you guys later.” I wave before signing off.
“Something smells good.” My father’s voice booms from the living room. “Are you in need of any taste testers?”
“You’ve already had a jelly doughnut this morning,” I say as he shuffles into the kitchen.
“That was supposed to be our secret, Penelope.”
“I promised I wouldn’t tell Mom, and if you’ll notice, Mom’s not here.”
“I’m actually noticing that nobody’s here. Where is everyone?”
“Strip club.” I shrug. “Nana’s really into that whole Thunder from Down Under group. I’m in charge of making the pie.”
He points at my laptop. “What’s that for?”