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“Same here, although I’ll be the first to admit I might be a smidgen starstruck.” Abby motioned toward the table behind her, filled with snacks and sweet treats. “Are you hungry? We have plenty of munchies.”

“Now that you mention it, I am kind of hungry.”

“I whipped up a batch of sausage wellingtons.” Lottie cleared a spot on the table and set her dish down.

“Yummy.” Noelle rubbed her palms together. “I can’t wait to try your British dish.”

Lottie made a couple more introductions, and Harlow knew there was no way she could keep track of their names. What she did know is she felt at ease, and genuinely welcomed by the others.

The Mackies and Harlow gathered around, watching Lottie uncover the platter. “Now, don’t get too excited. It’s nothing fancy…basically pastry wrapped sausages.”

The women grabbed plates and began filling them with food…a ton of food. Piles of pinwheels, a platter of bruschetta, a tray of deviled eggs, veggies and dip, mozzarella sticks and Lottie’s sausage pastries. Tucked away near the back were decadent brownies, vanilla cupcakes with cream cheese frosting, and chocolate chip cookies.

“I feel bad about not bringing a dish,” Harlow said.

“This party is for you,” Meg reminded her. “You can contribute to our next get-together.”

Harlow couldn’t remember the last time she’d made anything in the kitchen. Even if she did, Robert wasn’t around half the time to share a meal with her. When he was, he preferred takeout or, better yet, to hire a chef to come in and cook a gourmet meal.

“I’m afraid I’m a little…a lot rusty at cooking,” she confessed. “It might not be edible.”

“Do you know how to turn an oven on?” Abby asked. “We’ve had plenty of ‘buy and bake’ dishes, especially when life gets hectic and we don’t have time for made-from-scratch.”

“I think I can manage heating a dish.” Harlow dipped her mozzarella stick in marinara sauce and took a big bite. She could almost hear Robert’s voice whispering in her ear.Deep-fried foods will pack on the pounds.

She ignored the voice and polished off the rest before reaching for her sausage Wellington. While they munched, the women chatted. It was an easy conversation about work, Noelle’s flower shop, Lottie’s gardens, Eryn’s job at the hotel.

“Peyton isn’t here,” Abby said. “You’ll meet her at our next Mackies night.”

“Who is Peyton?”

“Peyton Dyson,” Lottie said. “She owns The Fudge Shop.”

“That’s what I’ve been missing,” Harlow joked. “Fudge.”

“Peyton’s is the best. She’ll be home tomorrow.” Noelle explained she and her mother, who helped run the shop, left the island to handle a minor family emergency on the mainland.

“I can’t wait to meet them.” Harlow gazed around the room, glad she’d taken Lottie up on her thoughtful offer.

It felt good to be a part of a normal conversation…one that didn’t involve money, wheeling and dealing, what excessive and extravagant gown to wear to the next award show, the next major purchase. It was simply friends catching up, offering advice, cheering each other on, and Harlow could feel her throat clog.

“Hey.” Eryn nudged her. “Are you okay?”

Harlow nodded, blinking back the sudden tears. This was everything…everything she was missing in life. Women supporting women. Friends uplifting friends.

“I was thinking about how nice it is to sit here and listen to conversations about the price of groceries. Decorating for the holidays. Advice about how to get a pizza sauce stain out of your favorite blouse.” Her lower lip started to tremble and Harlow looked away. Her life was nothing like this. Not by a longshot.

“Attention everyone.” Noelle tapped the side of her glass. “As soon as you’re done feasting, we’ll head over to the craft corner. With summer winding down, it’s time to focus on fall.”

Lottie ran around refilling drinks while the Mackies gathered at the table. Glitter and paints, markers and brushes. Beads and baubles, leaves and twigs. Styrofoam pumpkins, ready to be transformed into works of art, lined the center.

Harlow grabbed a paintbrush, a jar of orange paint and got to work, quietly listening while the friends bantered back and forth.

She marveled at how the women didn’t care who she was. Or if they did, they were doing an excellent job of pretending not to. Here, with the Magnificent Mackies, she was simply Harlow.

An hour in, they took a break and refilled their beverages, sparkling soda and apple cider.

Noelle’s husband, Leif, made an appearance. The women tried convincing him to join in the craft project, to which he politely yet adamantly refused. He did, however, fill a plate with food before escaping back upstairs.