event-planning business in a small warehouse space and had offered a series of cooking classes to start bringing in money and to meet potential new clients. Her idea worked brilliantly and it pushed her business forward to success. Those classes also brought this circle of women together and they had grown to become best friends.
“I remember that I took the class to learn how to cook somethin’ other than my mama’s down-home recipes,” Maggie recalled, sprinkling a little dressing on her salad. “I had hopes of impressin’ and snaggin’ me a successful man, but it hasn’t quite worked out that way.” Maggie offered a mock pout. She was still single, much to her chagrin. But her little boy was now grown and had recently enlisted in the navy, and she was financially independent and providing for just herself.
“Evan and I were newly married,” Emily recalled, “and I wanted to learn to cook for his sake. I was the worst cook ever, and you really helped me, Camille. Of course, I was so bad it wouldn’t have taken much to make me better,” Emily admitted, which drew laughter from the girls.
“And what about you, Isabel?” Camille asked.
Isabel set her burger down and cleared her throat while she wiped her mouth with her napkin. “Alex wanted me to take the class. He loves to cook and he’s quite good at it. With him being a lawyer and me working at the FBI, we both work pretty long hours. I took the class for him, so we could have fun cooking and creating dishes together on the weekends. It’s hard to believe it was five years,” she patted her tummy, “and fifteen pounds ago.” A nervous giggle escaped her lips.
“Hey, wasn’t there another woman in that first class with us?” Maggie asked.
“Yes, Abby something?” Emily said.
“Abby Randall,” Isabel replied. Her memory was sharp and clear. As a financial analyst, she had a habit of paying close attention to details.
“Yes, poor Abby,” Camille said.
“What do you mean, poor Abby?” Emily and Maggie said in unison, then turned and grinned at each other.
“Oh, you haven’t heard?” Camille sat up straight and leaned forward.
“Heard what?” Maggie’s interest appeared to be piqued, obviously expecting a tidbit of juicy gossip.
“Now, don’t tell anyone you heard it from me, but she and Bob are getting a divorce.” Camille leaned back a little, as if to let the information sink in.
“Divorced? Abby and Bob always seemed so happy,” Emily commented. “I ran into them a few times around town, at a restaurant or at the store. They seemed like things were going well. I wonder what happened.”
“Well, I’m not one to gossip, but I ran into her one day at the mall and we chatted for a few minutes,” Camille explained, picking at her sea bass. “Abby had taken classes from me several times, so I probably knew her better than any of you. She told me she thought they were blissfully happy and everything was going along beautifully. They have three children, you know, a nice home, and lots of friends—she said their life was perfect. Then one day, out of the blue, Bob told her he had fallen in love with another woman and he wanted a divorce. I’m sure it just broke that poor woman’s heart.”
“How can that happen?” Emily asked. “I mean, how can you think everything is perfect, and then out of the blue your husband doesn’t love you anymore?” At the mention of another woman, her mind went to the note she’d found in Evan’s pocket just an hour or so earlier. She shook her head to get rid of her burning desire to know who Delia could be.
“Abby said he traveled a lot for work, so he obviously did whatever he wanted to while he was away,” Camille surmised, “and then pretended to be the perfect husband and father while he was home. I guess he just got tired of pretending.”
She paused and her expression became sullen. “Now that I think about it, my Jonathan travels a lot for work too. You girls don’t think that could happen to us, do you?” Camille’s upbeat and carefree tone turned serious and she sounded genuinely worried.
“No, Camille,” Maggie replied, putting her hand over Camille’s. “You need to stop talkin’ like that.”
“My word, you and Jonathan are perfect together. I don’t believe for a moment he would do that to you, or your children,” Isabel told her. “Please, Camille, just kick that horrible thought out of