Page 35 of Under Pressure

“Uh . . . Don?” Nancy stuttered. “Did you buy stock in my company?”

“Santa María,” Rosa said. “I can see my reflection in it.”

The ladies all glanced down except Nancy, whose eyes bounced from one cleaning supply to the other, counting. He had buckets of water and mops in a couple different places, wadded up newspapers in a bucket on the couch with the Clear Glass for cleaning his windows, and had pulled down all his curtains for washing, CLR—Calcium, Lime and Rust—remover in baggies mixed with water over his faucets, though she could only see the one on the kitchen faucet, and maybe not even that from where she stood, the oven was on self-clean mode—though he’d probably have to give it a proper go once it was done. He had his steam cleaner out for the carpets and rugs, his vacuumtoo, he’d taken the shades off his lamps to vacuum them with his hand vacuum, and the tulip covers off the chandeliers were in his sink for washing.

Don whipped his gaze around. “What’s that look for? Did I miss a spot?” Nancy had a real discerning gaze. Not that she’d ever tell someone their house was dirty.

“That’s not what the look is for,” Nancy said.

“Would any spot dare evade you?” Polly placed her hands on her hips.

Rosa shook her head. “No,nunca.”

“What are you doing?” Winnie asked.

“Sandy’s surprise party is in a couple days.” He glanced at the piano, spotting a smudge. Quickly, he pulled a finely knit towel from his tool belt and headed over. He went at it.Nuncawas right. No spot stood a chance.

The ladies exchanged a glance. “I think we’d better tell him.” Nancy ran her hand over her smooth head of hair.

“It might help.” Polly motioned to the room.

Don glared at the spot he’d just cleaned. Didn’t they know that when you deep cleaned, the room had to get worse before it could get better? Removing lampshades and rolling rugs was a necessity.

“I’m just gonna say it.” Winnie gave a decisive nod and took a step closer. “Blue St. James owns a shop at the pier.”

Don’s head whipped up and he dropped the rag on top of the piano. Blue? Sean’s Blue?

Nancy placed a hand on Winnie’s shoulder, shooting her an exasperated look. “But she’s engaged.”

This time, Winnie shot Nancy a glare. “Women who are madly in love and happy, don’t burst into tears when they see their exes.”

“They do if they still secretly love their exes,” Rosa said and pointed at Polly. “RememberLove Strikes Twiceby Jillian Garner?”

Don liked that one. He, Rosa, Polly, Lydia Byrd, and Shirley and her parrot, Chuckles, had started a book club not too long ago.Love Strikes Twicehad been a hilarious second-chance romance. Carter and Lorraine sure had a lot of miscommunications between them. The Secret Seven would’ve had them whipped into shape in no time.

Polly nodded. “Yes, but this might be different, Rosa.”

Nancy gestured to Polly, palm up, fingers pointed. “And what happened to our rule about breaking people up?”

Rosa shook her head. “We broke up Grace and Stephan.”

A pregnant pause followed where Nancy didn’t say that it wasStephanand therefore didn’t count as an actual breakup. She didn’t have to—they were all thinking it.

Nancy held out her hands in a wait gesture. “I’m not saying no, I’m just saying that we don’t really know much about the situation. That’s all. We need more information before we start trying to stop a marriage instead of plan one.”

Polly muttered under her breath, “Especially one with a ring the size of my head.”

Winnie threw her hands up, still looking at Nancy. “That’s all I was saying. That’s why I wanted to talk to Don.”

It took Don’s brain a minute to catch up as the bickering continued. Organize the relevant pieces of the conversation. His brain felt slower lately, but right now it was latching on to a name he’d heard a moment ago, one he hadn’t heard in years. “Bluebell St. James?”

They stopped their chattering, which had started to sound like a faint hum in the background, and glanced his way.

Rosa nodded. “She owns Leather and Lace Boutique and Soda Shop.”

A sense of rightness fell over Don, and before anyone could say anything else, he whipped his tool belt off and headed for the door.

“Wait,” Nancy called after him. “Where are you going?”

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