Page 99 of Highball Rush
And there was no doubt in my mind those things meant something.
“There you are,” Jenny said, her gaze landing on me. She wore a pretty floral blouse and capri length pants. “I was hoping we’d see you here.”
I hugged her, enjoying her motherly embrace. “Looks like I’ve been missing out. There are so many people.”
“Fun, isn’t it? I’ve only been one other time, but now I’m hooked. Oh, and the books are good too.” She winked. “There’s more than enough food. Feel free to dish up. And Nadine says to make sure we all pack up at least one full plate for our men before we go. They need to keep up their strength.”
I took a plate and wandered down one side of the tables, adding a few things that looked good. If I tried even half of what was here, I’d be too stuffed to breathe. But I did make sure to grab a good-sized piece of Carolina Rae’s cornbread. I remembered it from before, and it was famous in four counties for a reason.
Millie Waggle approached, in a blue calico dress with a white collar that closed at her throat. She wore a name tag that readHi, My Name Is, and she’d writtenMillie Wagglein perfect cursive. She was the only one with a nametag. “Hi, Maya. It’s awful nice to see you.”
I smiled at her. “Thanks. You have to tell me what you brought tonight so I make sure to get at least two.”
“Lemon bars and blueberry muffins,” she said, beaming with pride. “I thought about baking something with chocolate, but I feel like I’ve been getting too predictable lately.”
“Have you ever thought about opening a bakery?” Millie Waggle’s baked goods could turn the staunchest low-carb dieter back to the dark side of sugar and flour.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Her cheeks took on a hint of pink. “It’s just something I do for fun.”
“That’s nice too. I know everyone enjoys your baking.”
“Thank you kindly. Can I just say, I like your hair? And… well… it’s just real good to see you again.”
“Thanks.” My smile faded and I busied myself reaching for a blueberry muffin. The way she’d said that… Did she know who I was?
Looking up, I noticed a handful of the women watching me. A few leaned together and spoke quietly. I couldn’t be sure that they were talking about me—or that, if they were, it was because they knew the truth. But I had a feeling my identity was on the verge of coming out. These people were smart and observant. And their memories were sharp. The novelty of Gibson having a woman in his life had been distraction enough for a little while. But now they were starting to see me, and more than a few probably guessed who I was.
And yet, if they did know, they were keeping it quiet.
I decided the chance of an unexpected Callie Kendall reveal at tonight’s book club was unlikely. I’d discuss it with Gibson, but we needed to come forward to the rest of the town with the truth sooner rather than later.
“Everybody, direct your attention here.” June gestured for people to be quiet. Her dark blond hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail and she had an extra helping of summer freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks. HerBook Babest-shirt was white with blue lettering. “Thank you. Since our group is increasing in size, it has become necessary to dichotomize into separate sub-groups. I’ve created a spreadsheet detailing the members of each. You’ve been separated by a process of random number generation that allowed for the greatest chance of demographic diversity within each smaller classification.”
The room went silent, eyes darting around.
George’s voice broke the silence. “She means she divided y’all up into smaller groups because there’s a lot of you.” The lone man in the room—at least that I could see—sat away from the gathered women. He had an ankle crossed over one knee, his large frame dwarfing a rickety folding chair.
“Precisely,” June said with a satisfied nod. “If you’ll just refer to page three of your handouts, we can begin rearranging into the aforementioned groupings.”
Another silence followed her instructions, only broken by the rustling of paper as some of the book clubbers flipped through a stapled packet.
George didn’t look up from the magazine in his lap. “June Bug, maybe everyone can just break up into groups on their own. Might be a touch easier.”
“That’s also acceptable,” June said.
“Y’all, just sit with who you want so you can discuss the book,” George said. He glanced up, meeting June’s eyes, and his face broke into a wide smile. She beamed back at him.
The noise level rose again as the ladies all gathered purses, tote bags, and paper plates piled with food, and moved their chairs into smaller circles. I walked over to Shelby, who gave me a quick hug hello. We tucked in with a group that included Cassidy, Scarlett, EmmaLeigh—who also eyed me like she knew a secret—and Dixie Miller, a white-haired woman with clear blue eyes and a lap full of her knitting.
It occurred to me as I watched all the ladies settle in that there was a distinct lack of Misty Lynn Prosser in this room. Of course, it was a book club. That sounded like Misty Lynn repellent to me.
Nadine paused by our circle, met Cassidy’s eyes, and gave her a little smile. Then she dragged her chair to another group nearby. Looking around, it seemed like none of the ladies with grown daughters in attendance were sitting with them. Maybe they were just trying to sit with people they didn’t see as often—a nod to June’s attempt at randomization.
“Well, y’all, I don’t even know where to begin with this one,” Scarlett said. “It was even better than the last book. Do y’all agree?”
Heads bobbed with enthusiastic nods.
“I was particularly interested in the shenanigans on the couch,” Scarlett continued. “Did y’all find that difficult to picture, or was it just me?”
