away when he left them.
“I’m anxious to talk to Isabel. She was so mysterious on the phone.” Emily cleared the glasses and silverware off the table and set them on the counter next to the sink.
“Get your shoes on, and your purse, and we can go,” he said, sticking the glasses in the dishwasher and closing the door.
She put a hand gently around the back of his neck and drew his face down to hers, giving him a quick kiss. “Thanks for making dinner and cleaning up.”
“My pleasure.” He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her tight.
She made an exaggerated fanning motion with her hand. “Why, whatever will I do when you’re gone, Mr. Andrews?” Emily teased with a heavy Southern drawl, purposely sounding like a helpless female.
“Miss me like crazy?” he replied with a grin.
“Absolutely.” She threw her arms around his neck and planted a wet, passionate kiss on him.
“I thought you were in a hurry to leave.”
“I am.” She released him and stepped away. “Just wanted to make sure you were going to miss me like crazy, too.” She sauntered down the hall after her shoes, swaying her hips, assuming he was watching her go. She slanted a quick look behind her—she was right.
~*~
By the time Emily and Colin arrived at Maggie’s, the small gathering of friends had already eaten, and Camille and Isabel were cleaning up the kitchen. Emily could hear the girls chattering in the kitchen and noticed through the rear kitchen window that Jonathan and Alex had retreated to the back deck. The guys were sitting on canvas director chairs, when Colin stepped outside and joined them.
“Hey, Em, so glad to see you made it.” Isabel looked up from the suds-filled sink as Emily stepped into the small, cozy kitchen.
Maybe the 1920’s cottage lacked a dishwasher, but it definitely oozed with charm. A fair trade-off, Emily always thought.
“Yes, we were starting to wonder about you.” Camille was drying a platter with a well-worn, checkered dish towel.
Before she could respond, Maggie came rushing into the kitchen with her arms outstretched to Emily. She looked exhausted and frail in her sweatshirt and jeans, nothing like her usual vibrant self. Her face was bare of makeup and her hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail.
“Emily!” Maggie cried out, squeezing her firmly.
Emily returned the hug. “How are you holding up?” Emily asked once Maggie released her grip.
“I slept most of the day, but I’m doin’ better now. Havin’ everyone here helps so much.” She smiled at Camille and Isabel, still doing the dishes.
“I’m assuming your brother came by to see you too,” Emily said.
“Yes, Sully was here this afternoon for a bit. He was so worried about me and Josh—and about the project with so many people in town puttin’ their money into it.”
“How’s Josh doing?” Camille asked, drying the last of the dishes.
“Alex saw him today.” Isabel wiped her hands on a towel. “He said Josh was nervous about being able to get out on bail tomorrow. I hope my husband can convince the judge he’s a low flight risk.”
“I don’t understand how they can think my son would kill Lucas.” Maggie had tears welling up in her eyes. “What possible motive would he have?”
Since walking into Lucas’s office the night before and finding Gloria seated beside his bloody and battered body, Maggie had been pretty much in the dark—literally—mostly sleeping and sedated.
Maggie was not aware of the facts that had unfolded during the day, and Emily wasn’t sure how much to share with her at this point. Taking a moment to consider her best move, Emily decided that if Maggie knew what a scumbag Lucas was, it would help her get over him faster.
“Why don’t we all go into the living room? I’ll explain what I learned today,” Emily suggested.
“That would be great, Em. I feel like I don’t know what’s goin’ on,” Maggie replied.
Camille shot a questioning glance at Isabel, as if to ask if they should go, and Isabel nodded her agreement. Emily turned and led the way back to the quiet living room.
Emily took a seat next to Maggie on the floral-print sofa, rearranging the jumble of pillows behind them, while Camille and Isabel settled into the sage-green overstuffed chairs that flanked the stone fireplace, facing them.
“Listen Maggs, I know getting through this is probably the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do—you know it was for me, when Evan died—but there are some things I need to tell you.”
“That doesn’t