Page 6 of Here With You

“Do you all want coffee?” Cricket leaned in. “I can put a shot of bourbon in it if it’s one of those meetings.” She turned toward Em. “Given that Miles showed up on your doorstep this afternoon to take over The Kessler, I think it’s one of those meetings.” She leaned back and held up her hand. “But if you’re plotting murder, I don’t want to be a part of it.”

Em held up three fingers. “Coffee for all, and no side of bourbon or homicide.”

Cricket left, and Em looked first at Charlotte and then at Marybeth before she started. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?” She was referring to Brie and Carter making him the manager of The Kessler, but when she saw Marybeth’s face pale, her heart skipped a beat. “You knew?”

“Well,” she said in a voice that rose an octave. “How was I supposed to tell you Miles was staying in the church’s guest house when I’m banned from saying his name?”

Em’s stomach twisted. “Wait. What?”

“I said—”

“Oh, I heard what you said. The problem is, I can’t believe it. How do you invite the devil inside your home, which happens to be the church, and live with yourself?”

“Everyone is redeemable—even Miles.”

“Are you kidding? That’s like inviting a fox into the henhouse or putting a snake inside a hamster habitat.” She realized she was yelling when she looked around, and all eyes were on her. She leaned in and whispered, “What kind of friend are you? You opened up Heaven and invited Hades inside. Who does that?”

Marybeth sat taller and smoothed the lapel of her Chanel jacket. She dressed for an event every day, and right now, Em second-guessed her promise to Cricket to pass on murder.

“I’m the friend who honors your wishes and still does the right thing. His mama is dying, and that SOB of a brother won’t let him stay on the ranch. With the resorts all full for summer, I couldn’t let him sleep in his truck, which was where I found him. One night, he’d pulled into the church parking lot and parked under that big elm.” She tugged at her pearl necklace. “As far as who does that? Don’t forget that Jesus forgave Judas.”

Em couldn’t argue with a preacher’s wife. She stared at both of her besties, then turned her attention to Charlotte. “Did you know?”

Charlotte tilted her head to the side and opened her mouth to speak but immediately shut it. She waited the longest of seconds before she said a word. “Can I plead the fifth here?”

“Oh. My. God.”

Marybeth brought her hand to her heart. “I’ll pray for you.”

Em shook her head. “Nope, you better pray for yourself. At the very least, pray that my ice cream and pie get here soon.” She pushed all the knives toward Charlotte. “You better hide these before I decide to use them.”

Charlotte cleared the table of anything Em could use in a murder, including blunt force instruments like the sugar jar. She picked up the forks and analyzed them carefully before setting them down.

“I could fork you to death,” Em said.

Charlotte smiled. “You could, but you’re getting pie, and you were never one to mix sweets and protein.” She slowly pushed a fork to Em. “Now that murder is off the table, or at least the weapons, can we get to the good stuff?”

“There is no good part.” Em leaned back against the booth and groaned. “Why am I being punished?”

Marybeth reached across the table and took Em’s hand. “You’re not being punished. You’re being tested.”

Em closed her eyes and scrubbed her face. “That’s even worse. With Miles, I’ve got a failing score.”

Charlotte tidied their napkins and placed the forks in the center. When she looked up, she frowned. “Is that what you were wearing when he showed up?”

Em looked down at her shirt and jeans. It was laundry day at the resort, and these were her cleaning clothes. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

“Did your mama drop you on your head when you were a child?” Charlotte asked. “You always dress for success. Right now, you look like you went from debutant to disaster.”

“It’s laundry day.” Em pointed to each of them. “I still can’t believe you didn’t warn me.”

Marybeth looked to the ceiling like she was praying for a godly intervention, but none was coming. “What were we supposed to do? Call anonymously and say, ‘He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is on his way?’”

“That would have worked.”

Charlotte laughed. “This isn’tHarry Potter.”

Em let out an exasperated sigh. “No, this is real life. My life. And you two are meddling.”

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