The Cottage on Juniper Ridge

Chelsea had been in the book club since the beginning and the members had been there for support when her clueless husband was driving her nuts. He’d finally figured out how to be both a good husband and a good father. So, with him helping so much at home, there could only be one reason Chelsea was too tired for book club.

“She’s pregnant,” Stacy guessed.

Juliet confirmed it.

“With two kids under the age of three, I don’t blame her,” Cass said. “But what’s Dot’s excuse?”

“She said she’s got too much on her plate.”

Cass rolled her eyes. “Oh, brother. What’s that got to do with anything?”

Dot was an inspiration to them all. In her sixties, she could run circles around almost everyone in the group. She owned Breakfast Haus, the town’s favorite breakfast restaurant, and was a member of the Chamber of Commerce. In addition to that, she led an active social life.

“I think it has more to do with the books we read,” Juliet said. “They’re not racy enough for her.”

Cass shook her head. “That’s our Dot. She probably wore her last husband out.”

“She’s had more than one?” asked Charley, who was still a relative newcomer to Icicle Falls.

“The first one...well, no one knows exactly what happened to him,” Cass replied.

Over the years Stacy had heard rumors but they’d seemed too fantastical to believe. Even though Dot was a tough old girl, it was hard to picture her bumping off her first husband.

“When I was a kid I remember Hildy Johnson telling my mom that she did him in,” Juliet said. “Hildy said she shot him but got off because it was self-defense.”

“I heard she poisoned him,” Cass said.

“Now, why didn’t I think of doing that?” Charley joked.

“Good thing you didn’t. You’d have been in jail instead of divorced and then you wouldn’t have met Mr. Wonderful,” Cass told her.

Dan Masters, who owned Masters Construction, had been the man in charge of rebuilding Charley’s restaurant after it burned down, but in the past year he’d been a major factor in the rebuilding of her life, as well. These days he hung out at the restaurant every night, and they were often seen at a corner table, sharing a piece of wild huckleberry pie. Most nights, after the restaurant was closed, his truck could be found parked in front of her house.

“True.” Charley casually pulled a black leather glove off her left hand and wiggled her fingers. A fat diamond winked.

“Whoa, check this out,” Cass said, moving to the couch where Charley had settled in order to get a better look. “That’s some sparkler.” She hugged Charley. “You deserve every karat. But, you little stinker, why didn’t you call me the minute it happened?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t be awake at midnight last night.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Cass said. “When’s the wedding?”

“We’re thinking Valentine’s Day.”

“Wow, that doesn’t give you much time,” Stacy said.

“Tell me about it. But, hey, if Cass can throw together a great wedding in record time so can we.”

“I wouldn’t wish that madness on anyone,” Cass said. “I almost had a nervous breakdown.”

“We’re just going to have a small, simple wedding.”

Cass snorted. “That’s what Dani said.”

The doorbell rang and Stacy opened it to let in Chita Arness, their newest member. Chita was a thirtysomething single mom who looked like Jennifer Lopez. Why she hadn’t remarried was a mystery to Stacy. Chita claimed that between work and her two children she didn’t have time to date but Stacy wasn’t buying it. A woman could always find time for love.

“Sorry I’m late.” Chita handed over a plate with a cake on it that made Stacy’s mouth water. “My tres leches cake,” she said.

Brownies, gingerbread and cake—Stacy’s hips were going to explode. But she’d die with a smile on her face.

In addition to the cake, Chita brought two books—the Robyn Carr holiday tale they were discussing and what was probably her suggestion for their January selection, since it was her turn to choose.

She apologized again to the others as she entered the living room. “I had to pick up Hidalgo from the vet’s. And then, after dinner, Anna needed help with her math.”

Juliet shuddered. “Math. Eeew. When Jon reaches the point where he needs help I’m having him call his uncle Jonathan.”

“I wish we had an uncle to call,” Chita said, and sank into Stacy’s new armchair (Thanksgiving sale, forty percent off). She heaved a giant sigh. “I’m so tired. And I still have so much to do before Christmas. Enrico and his friends got into the cookies I just made and ate almost all of them. Now I have to bake some more before my sister’s cookie exchange on Saturday. Which I don’t want to go to.”

“Why?” Juliet asked.

“Because I don’t have time to party,” Chita replied. She ran a hand through her long, dark hair. “All I want to do this weekend is crawl into bed and stay there.”

“Bed and a good book,” Juliet said with a sigh.

“I wouldn’t be able to stay awake to read,” Chita said. “Even though I loved this month’s book. By the way, what gossip did I miss?”

“Oh, not much,” Charley said, waving her left hand around.

“Look at you!” Chita exclaimed. She grabbed Charley’s hand. “Oooh, that is some diamond.”

“He’s some man.” Charley smiled and proceeded to fill Chita in on the wedding details.

“Ah, I love weddings,” Chita said dreamily.

“Maybe there’s one in your future,” Stacy suggested.

“No time for a wedding. No time for a man,” Chita said firmly.

“You really need to rethink your priorities,” Charley teased as the women moved to the dining room table.

“Oooh, your homemade brownies,” Cass said. “These are the best.”

Stacy smiled, dismissing the compliment. She was no professional like Cass and she knew Cass was just being nice. Still, she was gratified by the praise. She liked to bake.

She also liked to entertain. She’d been happy to take over hosting the book club after Juliet had her baby. With the kids gone, the house seemed so empty. Homes should be filled with people and laughter.

And life should be filled with meaning and purpose. Stacy had to admit that when their daughter, the baby of the family, moved to Seattle to attend the University of Washington in the fall, she’d lost her sense of purpose. Empty-nest syndrome—she never thought she’d experience it. She’d always kept busy with her home, her quilting and her volunteer activities.

She still had the volunteer work. She was on the Friends of the Library committee and was in charge of the monthly book sales. Between that and her quilting and church activities, she had enough to do. And yet she didn’t.