Page 5 of A Lot Like Lavender

“Where are you going?” she says the second I answer her call.

“Hello, Dinah Belle.”

“It’s Wednesday,” she replies in utter disbelief.

“And tomorrow it will be Thursday.”

I can almost see her eyeroll. “Everyone’s here, Em. Why didn’t you come in?”

Everyone being Dinah’s girlfriends that meet every Wednesday for coffee and those sugary, buttery, twisted carbs I could really use right now. “Oh, sorry. It must have slipped my mind.”

“Slip… slipped your mind?” she stutters. “Things never slip your mind. You’re un-slippable. Your socks. Your high-waisted jeans. And your brain. Un-slippable.”

“I am not un-slippable, Dinah.”

“No slippage. Ever. Not once.” She cannot fathom her big sister being a fallible human.

“Please stop saying slippage.”

Dinah tells the others, “She said she forgot… That it slipped her mind,” before she returns to me. “Are you sick? Do you need me to bring you food? I’ll kick everyone out. Lola and I can be on our way right now.”

“If I were sick, would you really want to bring your toddler to deliver me food?”

“I could throw it out the window at you as we pass by. Easy peasy.”

“I’m fine, really. I just had a PTA meeting this morning and then another meeting right after. Now I’ve got to get home to the girls.”

“Oh! PTA!” Dinah claps her hands and announces, “Guys, she had a PTA meeting. Hold on, I’m putting you on speaker. Tell us everything.” I picture her sliding onto the counter of the store, letting her legs dangle over the side, and the rest of her friends happily hanging out at their prospective places at the countertop, enjoying their usuals and leaning in for all the juicy Honey Hill gossip.

“Did anyone cry?” Chloe asks, somewhere in the distance.

Her sister Joey answers before I do, “I bet Bree did. Simone is ruthless.”

Agreements echo in the background, then everyone falls silent waiting on my update. An update they apparently live for on a monthly basis.

“Both cried.” I then announce without preamble, “And I’m the new PTA president.”

The phone erupts with questions, a good diversion if there ever was one, but my phone has another call coming in. “Dinah Belle, I’ve gotta go. Sorry!” says the liar. “Charlie’s calling. Love you, byeeeee.”

I hitendbefore she can get another word in and answer Charlie.

Charlie, as usual, jumps into conversation as if we’ve been talking for hours and not for the first time since yesterday morning. “Ya know, I told that hippie at the juice store that there was no way in tarnation you’d ever, as aloyal customer and friend of mine, drink their nonsense concoctions for health and wellness rather than using the many oils I’ve supplied you with over the years.”

“Charlotte, I thought we agreed it wasn’t kind to continue calling Ocean and Haventhe hippies. They’re valued members of Honey Hill and people. Use their names.”

“And I thought we agreed you’d find out the hard way what’ll happen if you ever used my Christian name again.”

I wait patiently as she works out the irony of her statement. Since meeting Charlie a few years ago, I haven’t gone a day without hearing from her. It’s been nice, regardless of how kooky she can be, to have an older woman checking in on Molly and me. Spoiling us in the ways she knows best, with essential oils and tonics for any given ailment. Daily phone calls and uninvited visits to the farm, always when I seem to be at my most lonely. It’s as if she has some sort of Emory radar, swooping in at the most inconvenient and surprisingly appropriate of times.

Charlie’s a staple in our life now. A wonderful, well-meaning meddler with big opinions and a big heart.

I turn at the traffic light finally taking me out of town, and Charlie concedes, huffing an exasperated breath. “They’re tree huggin’ lunatics, and don’t you dare change the subject, ma’am. What did you go there for? Was it an immunity booster? Or something for gas? You know I have an oil for that.”

I can’t help the giggle that escapes, thankful for a bit of levity. “Molly loves their morning smoothie. I just wanted to treat her on the way to school, Charlie. That’s all. You know we use your goodies every day.”

The smoothie Molly is currently obsessed with is calledBe Enlightened, but I think mentioning that would only encourage Charlie’s ire.

She harumphs again.