Page 9 of Up in Smoke

Hazel doesn’t speak at first, instead clearing her throat and brushing her bangs away from her face. I place a hand on the vintage lace tablecloth in front of me and lean forward.

“Hazel . . . "

She whispers something, and I could have sworn she said, “August.” Hearing a real deadline has me regretting ever becoming a sellout and signing the contract in the first place. The legal obligation to design the courses for content expansion is airtight. I’m going to have to put a pause on my little dream of peaceful solace and do this instead.

I stepped away from a life that revolves around work, money, and status for a reason. To put it simply, it’s just not the life for me. The thought of returning to that, even for just a few years, starts a headache behind my eyes.

Then I remember the kids and families that our app has helped. I wouldn’t trust anyone else to care about the app’s mission and core values as much as Hazel, Sophia, and I do. The work we’ll be doingmeanssomething, and that’s enough to keep my chin up.

Sophia squints and tilts her head. “What was that?”

“I said they plan to launch the update in August,” Hazel blurts out in one breath.

“We’ll have to start immediately.” I reach to the side, plucking a blackberry from a Pyrex bowl and tossing it into my mouth with a shrug. “A year and a half is crazy. It took metwojust to write and trial the curriculum the first time around. I could probably push to make it work, though.”

“ThisAugust,” she corrects nervously.

My movements still, and I nearly choke on the fruit in my mouth. We’re in mid-March and haven’t even discussed a plan of action. There’s no way. Sophia slaps a hand over her mouth, seemingly agreeing with my inner thoughts.

“It’s impossible,I know.I tried to reason with them, but we aren’t in control of those things anymore. They expect us to hold up our end of the deal. Ontheirterms.”

A car door slams shut in my front yard, but I ignore it. When my friend Savannah walks in a minute later wearing a lilac cotton dress, strappy heels, and ginormous sunglasses, I still can’t bring myself to speak.

“Did someone say terms?” Savannah says, gliding across my hardwood floor. She’s a lawyer in town. She also happens to be one of two people I’ve befriended since moving to Westridge, and it’s not uncommon for her to show up at my house with a canvas tote full of expensive wine and our favorite charcuterie items.

“Shoot. Ladies,” Hazel says, after checking the time on her watch and gathering a stack of papers from her desk. “I have class in five minutes. Let’s discuss this after the weekend, shall we?”

“This will not work,” Sophia whines. There she is. “We’re going to get sued.”

“It will befine,” Hazel reassures. “We’ll talk soon. Promise.”

I still haven’t moved. Sophia pretends to faint just before the virtual meeting ends, leaving me to stare at my own stunned reflection on the now-black computer screen.

“Is this a bad time?” Savannah asks hesitantly while walking into my kitchen.

It’s not much of a trek from the front door considering my entire cottage, aside from the bathroom, is just one small open space. I don’t mind the lack of square footage, but my collection of antiques, trinkets, and indoor plants are cramped, to say the least. I shake my head and then cover my eyes with both hands, rubbing them until the shock wears off enough to speak.

“No, I’m glad you’re here to distract me. Pretend you didn’t hear any of that, and I’m not trying to claw my way out of a dumpster fire right now.”

“Deflecting. I like it,” she says with a shimmy of her shoulders.

I let out a sigh of relief knowing she’ll go along with my plea for a subject change, despite the end of the meeting she just overheard. Friends that match your level of delusion are diamonds in the rough, and I’m glad I’ve found mine.

“I come bearing gifts.”

“Please say figs and brie.”

“Figs and brie.”

Correction,bestfriend.

I walk up beside her and reach into the bag for the goods. She bumps her hip to mine, and we laugh over our indulgent food and wine habit while laying out our spread. When my fingers curl around a bundle of honeycomb wrapped in kraft paper, the moan that escapes my mouth is borderline pornographic.

“I will eat this entire thing and then fall into a coma for the rest of the day, just so you know.”

Savannah folds the now empty tote bag and then pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Says the girl who adds edible glitter to her bottle of vitamins.”

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