Page 128 of Six Month Wife

“Who has time for TV? Y’all need to get a life,” I chortle. “After you fix that light strand, of course. Chop-chop.”

Vic grunts. “She wouldn’t like it anyway. Too much mystery. Not enough dolphins.”

Sophie raises that one eyebrow she’s so good at doing as she nudges one of the big planters. “I don’t know. I think Elle might love it. Endless rules. Color-coded departments. You’d have that place running smoother than Lumon’s creepy wellness floor.”

I act like I’m considering what they are talking about, but my eyes are already moving. I can’t help it.

“Vic, the lights. See that strand by the fence? It’s sagging at the end. Can you pull it tighter? It’ll balance the whole thing.”

He mutters something under his breath, but he’s already reaching for the ladder. Such a good boy!

“Charity, love of my life and table-setter extraordinaire…”

“You know just how to butter me up.”

“The runner’s bunched on the buffet corner. It’ll show in pictures.”

Charity groans but smooths it out. “You’re lucky I love you. And fine, you're right. Barely.”

“I do appreciate it.”

“And Sophie, the pot by the far corner. You did amazing with those, by the way. They frame the patio like they were created for this exact purpose.”

“My specialty!”

“The one with the ivy needs to shift it toward the post just a bit, right? Or am I imagining things? From here, it doesn’t look like it’s lined up with the other one.”

Sophie gives me a long look, but there’s a smile at the edge of it. “You missed your calling. You should’ve been an event planner.”

I shrug, wiping my hands on my shorts. “I’d workmyself into an early grave if I did this for a living. It’s never done. Never perfect enough. I need order I can actually control.”

Sophie drags a chair across the patio, loud on the herringbone brick. “Jury’s still out. You may just get yourself that if you don’t chill soon.”

“So melodramatic.”

I nudge the napkin stack on the buffet table into alignment as Charity gives me the side eye. I blow her a kiss.

I scan the setup again. The candles on the mantle aren’t evenly spaced, and the bow on the left side of the mantel is cattywampus. God, how did I miss that? That was my specific job!

Charity dumps a box of tea lights onto the table. “Elle, thank you for being so on this. As much as we complain, we need your attention to detail. The set-up is stunning, and it is going to be the party of the year. You really did make this yard perfect.”

I bite back the urge to grab the ladder right then. The yard looks beautiful. I can fix the mantel in a minute.

“It’s Izzy’s night. It’s got to be?—”

“Magnificent?” Vic blurts as he tightens the light strand, muttering under his breath about slave labor.

“Yes,” I reply, lighting up. “Good word choice, Vic. She’s landed the love of her life. Now we get to celebrate. We should all be so lucky.”

Lucile, always in her Southern maxi dress, even in this weather, appears at the fence. Ice clinks in the full glass pitcher she’s carrying. “Lord, Elle, you’re gonna work yourself to death out here. Y’all need a staff. Brought some fresh iced tea for everyone.”

She sets the pitcher down on the silver-plated coaster on the table. I glance at the pitcher, willing it not to dripcondensation onto the white tablecloth. That coaster is beautiful, but it will do nothing to protect it.

“She has a staff,” Vic quips. “Wearethe staff.”

Sophie stands from and brushes off her hands into the pot, eyeing me like she’s debating knocking me flat. “Elle. Have some tea.” She grabs a red Solo cup and fills it from the pitcher. “You’re overheating.”

She hands me the cup.