CHAPTER 1
The Victim
F riendsgiving.
Whose big idea was this, anyway?
Oh, that’s right, Claudia and Vera—the devious dynamic duo.
A silent laugh rumbles through me.
Claudia and Vera are my two favorite people in the world. We’ve known one another since we were seniors in high school, and now that we’re senior citizens , we’re closer than sisters. Those two women could talk me into just about anything, including this somewhat disastrous shindig.
Oh, I’m just being a Negative Nelly.
There is not one disastrous thing about a little early Thanksgiving holiday shared among friends—especially old friends. Just about every woman in this café went to high school with us. It’s been ages, and we’ve been through more than a few stages with and without one another.
It’s nice to see a room full of familiar faces—even if they have aged just a smidge, myself included.
I’ll admit, it’s cozy in here. I haven’t been to the Country Cottage Inn since it changed hands, but the new owner, Ree’s daughter, Bizzy, has done a number on this place.
It’s far more inviting in just about every capacity, but most importantly with the inclusion of pets.
Now that the four-footed among us are welcome at the inn, my sweet Chestnut and Acorn are more than happy to be here.
Chestnut and Acorn are a couple of Pomeranian pups, who just so happen to own every inch of real estate in my heart.
I watch as they dance and yip with the other cute pooches that some of my friends have brought along for the evening, and I’d venture to say that the dog party looks equally, if not more, riveting than the party for the people.
The Country Cottage Café is a cute little diner that sits in the back of the inn. Usually it’s reserved for the guests, but because Ree’s daughter owns the inn, we have the run of the entire place for the night. It has a retro black and white theme with simple bistro tables that have been lined up to create one long expanse, and the aroma of a perfect Thanksgiving meal has been making everyone moan with approval from the moment we stepped inside.
The thick scent of turkey fills the air, along with the sweet tang of stuffing, and just beneath that I’m picking up notes of cinnamon, most likely from a pie or two. As much as the rest of these ladies can’t wait to dive in, I can’t imagine having a single bite.
The truth is, I’ve lost my appetite. And nothing seems to get it going anymore. I haven’t eaten a decent meal in weeks. In fact, the last few weeks have felt like a bad dream altogether.
I can’t believe this.
I can’t believe this is happening to me.
I’ve got thoughts on the matter.
I’ve got miles of mixed emotions running wild, too.
Of course, I’d never want to share my feelings, not with my best friends, not with any of the women in this room.
I’m pretty good at wearing a mask. I’m wearing my best smile here tonight for all of my friends to see.
Some of these gals, I haven’t seen in decades. I’ll admit, we all look the same to me. Sure, we’re older. But deep down inside, we’re all those same little girls trying to make it in this big world.
It’s been one million years since we’ve graduated from high school. We’ve had marriages, divorces, illnesses, glamorous vacations, triumphs, and failures. So many things have happened to us in the interim, and yet here we are, gabbing away as if not a single day has passed.
We have our secrets, too—some dating as far back as decades.
Lord knows I have them. And some of them I plan on taking with me to the grave. But there are a few women here who know everything about me.
The darkest secret of them all looms over my soul like a sickle, and try as I might to push it out of my mind, it comes crashing to the forefront once again. Inescapable. That’s exactly what it’s been.
It does make me wonder if that’s why all of these horrible things have been happening to me as of late.
Those nasty notes? The shadows that always seem to trail me? And those suspicious thumps in the night? Whoever is behind this has clearly succeeded in instilling fear in me.
I’m afraid when I’m with people.
I’m afraid when I’m all alone.
I’m afraid in my own mind. There is no safe place for me to hide.
And it’s my own fault. Because deep down inside, I know I’ve caused this.
I’ve done this. I deserve to be afraid. I deserve everything that’s happening to me.
Oh, I know what they’re thinking. They want me to make it right, but I can’t do it. There’s not a thing on the planet that will ever make right what I’ve done.
Vera dances her way in my direction as happy as can be with a mocktail in her hand, or a bona fide cocktail knowing her. Vera has never been one to abstain from anything. Two words describe Vera best: liquid sunshine. I’ve yet to see her have a bad day. Vera has been waltzing through life for as long as I’ve known her.
Sure, her marriage didn’t work out. Her husband was a cheating drunk who left her with far too many young kids and far too many old bills, but she somehow managed to put on a happy face and smile through that, too. That’s one of Vera’s most prized talents, slapping on a happy face and convincing everyone else her life is rainbows and unicorns. Heck, she can even convince me, her very best friend. But as her very best friend, I do tend to know better.
The world thinks that Vera is about as happy as you can get inside and out. It all circles right back to that sunny personality of hers. And the good Lord knows she’s tried to pour her sunshine out on me, too. Boy, has she ever. And, of course, I let her think it’s working, but nothing will ever work. Not even Vera could come up with a panacea for what ails me.
And then there’s Claudia, ever the practical one, the neatnik among the three of us. Claudia rounds out Vera and me perfectly.
I shake my head at my two best friends. Each one of us has gone through heck and back and somehow managed to survive husbands, ex-husbands, rebellious teenagers, catty PTA moms—and the gossipmongers who have had it out for us for as long as we can remember. Sickness, health, vacations—far too many cruises, and far too many sleepless nights wondering how we can fix things for one another.
Yes, if there was ever a glue between the three of us, it would be Claudia with her no-nonsense personality. One might think she’s the opposite of Vera, but in reality, she’s a close second, seeing that they both share an optimistic outlook on life. Although admittedly, Claudia is a bit more rooted in reality. And sadly, far more grounded in my reality.
Claudia knows all of my secrets. She sees right through me, right to the rotten bone.
An explosion of laughter goes off to my right and I look to see Ree Baker and her good friend Georgie cackling away while holding the attention of just about everyone in this room.
Ree has always had that special sparkle in her. She’s always been the it girl.
Oh, how we all love Ree. She’s just one of those girls that fell away and we lost touch with, but I’m so glad she’s called us back. Well, at least she offered up the room when Vera called us back.
Vera is the one who wrangled the circus together. This is her circus. These are her monkeys. And yes, I’m counting myself in that primate number.
A bell goes off and we all look to the left as a procession of waiters and waitresses comes in. Each one is dressed in their black-and-white finery with little bowties on, and every one of them carries one scrumptious dish after the other. And the strongest of the bunch, a six-foot-tall wall of muscles, carries a perfectly bronzed turkey.
The entire lot of us offers up a spontaneous applause as we take our seats.
Ree says a quick blessing, and once she’s through, Vera jumps to her feet and clinks a knife to her glass.
“Hear ye, hear ye,” Vera calls out. “I’d like to make a toast to the fine women we used to be, and to the even better women we’ve become. May we reunite more often. May our worst days be behind us, and our sunniest days lie up ahead. We may be approaching winter, as well as the winter of our lives, but that doesn’t mean we can’t remain youthful on the inside. And that doesn’t mean we can’t make our way to the finish line with our arms linked to one another. In fact, I say as we inch our way to the finish line of life, we do so with a big ol’ smile on our faces as we use up everything the good Lord gave us. Hope springs eternal,” she calls out and the room breaks out into whoops and hollers. “And don’t forget! We’ll be dancing our way down Main Street come Thanksgiving morning on the best float that Cider Cove has seen! Just like we said in high school, seniors do it better! And I’m glad to report that old saying still stands true.” Riotous laughter ensues. “Now let’s dig in!”
Vera sits down and we all start in on our wonderful, scrumptious meal—and a part of me wonders if it will be my last.