Page 62 of Thirst For Me
She heads to the door as a couple of women pile in with wine and food. After a round of hellos, the fortyish mom wearing a ball cap and cargo pants with a definite “I coach all the kids sports teams” vibe literally gives me a list of the local committees she’s on. The dark-haired, drop-dead gorgeous mom, thirtyish, gives me and my cider bottles a hug.
Then the two of them hurry into the living room, where the food and drink await.
“I’m on a timeline, ladies,” Power Mom announces as she peruses the food offerings. I’m told her name is Pamela. “I’ve got four boys under twelve at home with Daddy, and something’s getting burned down or broke if I’m not back in three hours.”
Hot Mom is already dumping wine into a large tumbler. Her name is Maria. “Well, I just finished breastfeeding and I haven’t been out in ages. Someone please tell me something good. I’m dying to live vicariously.”
Then everyone in the room, by some strange coincidence, looks at me.
I almost demand,What?Is there a spider in my hair?
“How are you liking Orchard Cove, Sierra?” Trish asks me eagerly.
“And Pier Seven?” Power Mom asks.
“And Mason Grant?” Bev inquires, totally straight-faced.
Hot Mom elbows her in the ribs.
Why do I feel like I’m onstage and they’re all waiting for the show to begin?
I manage to stammer out something like “Good. Fine. Yeah. Are those pickles?”
Those are not, in fact, pickles on the plate in Power Mom’s hands, but cookies that look nothing like pickles. My awkwardness is showing and I can’t even blame it on alcohol yet.
“I should go open this cider,” I say self-consciously, still hugging all three bottles, which Bev did offer to take from me but I held onto.
“I’ll help you,” Sophie says, nudging me toward the kitchen. “Kitchen, Bev?”
“Help yourself,” Bev says. “June should be along soon, too. Then we can begin.”
I follow Sophie into the kitchen, where she immediately puts her tray down and whirls on me. “Just relax, Si. It’s not an interrogation.”
I put the bottles down awkwardly on the counter. “It feels like one.”
“They literally just asked you how you like it here.”
I chew my lip absently. “Do you think they know about me and Mason?”
“There is no you and Mason. Bev’s just fishing.” She picks up a bottle opener, cracks the top off the Rhubarb cider, and pours me a glass. She puts it in my hand. “You’re here to make friends, remember? Win over the local ladies?”
“How? I have nothing in common with these people. Power Mom is way too Type A, even for me, and Hot Mom is wearing hemp.”
“So?”
“I’ve been meeting these small-town people at the smoothie bar all week. They’re outdoorsy. And crafty. And they read cozy mysteries set on farms. They’re actuallyintocamping and DIY and they spend time in natureon purpose. Like, for fun.” I take a big swig of cider, trying to calm my nerves.
“Since when are you so judgmental?” Sophie says.
“I’m not. I’m realistic. I hate camping and hiking and I’ve never even been fishing. I like modern conveniences like uninterrupted Wi-Fi and an organized calendar that syncs with all my apps and parking meters where I can prepay for my parking with my phone.” I’m truly panicking now, and making zero sense. I know that.
“No one likes parking meters, Si,” Soph says calmly.
She’s right. And it’s slowly dawning on me why I’m so nervous about this night.
Not because I’m worried people in town might be gossiping about me, or whispering about me and Mason.
Because I’ve somehow gotten myself into a position where I’m vulnerable to a man,caringwhat he thinks of me. And I’m scared as shit that since he wants me gone, everyone in town will take his side.
