“Deal.”
I hovered for a second, unsure where to land. Bristol caught my hesitation.
“Come sit,” she said, gesturing to the spot on the couch beside her.
Megan held up a glass and gestured toward a pitcher. “Sangria?”
“Just to warn you, though,” Em added, lifting her own glass, “this stuff is delicious, but don’t plan on driving home if you’ve had a couple of glasses. I make Zach drop me off and pick me up.”
“You’re just a lightweight,” Cam teased, tossing a grin at her cousin.
I smiled politely, but shook my head. “No, thank you.”
Bristol, ever perceptive, tilted her head. “Not a sangria fan?”
“Not exactly. I’ve just gotten used to keeping my head clear.” I tried to make it sound casual, but they must have sounded more foreboding than I meant for them to because something flickered in Bristol’s eyes. Fortunately, she didn’t press.
“Fair enough,” Megan said easily. “We’ve got plenty ofoptions. I make a pretty amazing fizzy lemonade, if I say so myself.” She gave a dramatic wink. “And I do say.”
Relieved, I exhaled and smiled. “That sounds great.”
Drinks poured and plates filled, everyone curled up in one of the oversized chairs or nestled onto the couch. They all seemed so at home. I tried to do the same.
“So, Anna,” Teagan said, leaning back in her chair with a smirk, “I heard you upstaged Beverly the other night. Everyone I’ve talked to seems really excited about this dance. But I feel I should warn you, if you do too good of a job, she’ll rope you into planning everything from now on.”
Em snorted. “Don’t scare her.” Then she leaned in, stage-whispering, “But she’s not wrong.”
I chuckled, feeling more at ease. “I don’t mind. I used to help plan a lot of fundraisers. I actually enjoy it.” I paused and creased my brow. “But usually, I have more time. Right now, I have about five weeks, no caterer, and no band. Not to mention a barn that needs to be emptied and cleaned.”
Megan waved her hand. “Don’t worry about the food. Sterling Mill lives for a potluck. And I have to say, they’re usually fantastic. You might say a few of the ladies—and a few men—are pretty competitive with their dishes. We’ll eat better than most catered events.”
“Too bad we can’t get Hunter Hewes,” Cam mused. “He’s a hometown boy.”
“He’s already performing at Milling About in the fall,” Megan chimed in. “His aunt talked him into it.”
Out of the corner of my eye, Teagan frowned at her plate at the mention of the famous country star’s name. But no one commented.
“I might know someone,” Bristol offered, leaning forward. “Dad and I met this guy who played at some events we wentto. His name is Bartholomew, but he prefers to go by Slim. Tall, skinny, and can play anything with strings, especially the banjo. His band’s calledSlim Pickins. They play bluegrass and covers. He owes me a favor. I’ll reach out to him if you want.”
“That would be amazing,” I exclaimed.
“I had a cancellation for two rooms just this morning for the weekend of the dance,” Em added. “I’ll hold it back and donate the rooms for them to stay in. That will help cover expenses.”
I stared at them all, slightly stunned. “You guys, this is so great. I don’t know how to thank you,” I said.
Cam shrugged like it was no big deal. “It’s what we do.”
The girls drifted into smaller conversations. Teagan laughed with Megan about something involving a property she’d shown, and Bristol and Em rolled their eyes about a PTA meeting. Everything fell into a comforting, easy rhythm.
I sank deeper into the couch, letting the steady buzz of conversation soak into my subconscious. I felt safe. Not just tolerated, but that maybe these women would have my back. Like I didn’t have to be on guard or brace myself for an incoming barb or an ugly look.
A fresh glass appeared in front of me, the liquid a pretty cranberry red. Cam smiled. “No pressure. But it pairs well with figuring out you’re not alone.” It was as if she could read my thoughts.
There was no pressure in her voice. No expectation. Just kindness wrapped in understanding. I hesitated for half a second, then took it. “Why not?” I said, wrapping my fingers around the glass. “It’s a new feeling, having friends.”
I took a small sip. It was sweet and slightly tart, a little reminder of how my life was currently shaping up despitethe sometimes bitter reminder of how I might have had this all along if I’d made different choices.
Paige plopped onto the arm of the couch next to me and took a sip from her own glass. “Let’s talk about that bruschetta. Either you have magical abilities, or I’ve severely underestimated the power of tomatoes.”
