Whoever wants to go to the Oyster Feed, follow me.”
“All y’all can go on without me. I’ll meet up with y’all later,” Maggie called out as the group left her standing her ground.
The small crowd of friends chatted and laughed their way to the city park, where a large open-air tent was set up to serve the Oyster Feed. People had already begun lining up at the serving station to grab a plateful of the “oysters” along with a piece of buttered corn on the cob and a juicy wedge of ripe, red watermelon.
Emily, along with her girlfriends, Camille and Isabel, and their husbands, Jonathan and Alex, descended on a long folding table, balancing their oyster-laden plates and cold drinks.
“I wish Colin could have been here,” Emily remarked.
Six months after her husband, Evan, had been killed, Emily began dating the town’s new police detective, Colin Andrews. Within a few short months, he had been called back to San Francisco to help his mother take care of his father, following a debilitating stroke. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be gone, but had said he felt duty-bound to help out.
Ex-Marines were like that, Emily reminded herself.
She and Colin tried to keep in contact long distance by way of emails, phone calls, and Face Time on the computer, but it wasn’t the same as having him there in person. She was lonely for him, especially when she saw her friends enjoying life with their men. Her only solace was that Maggie was single too and they could commiserate together.
“How is Colin doing?” Alex asked. They had been basketball buddies, and as an attorney, Alex found himself working the opposing side of some of the cases Colin investigated.
“He misses you all.” Emily’s hair hung in loose tousled curls, brushing her shoulders, as she looked down at her plate, bravely cutting into an oyster.
“But he misses you the most, I’m sure.” Camille patted Emily’s hand.
Emily sighed. “I’m sure you’re—”
“Hey, y’all.” Maggie burst in and stood next to their table. “I told y’all I’d catch up sooner or later.”
“Have a seat.” Isabel motioned to the folding chair next to her.
“I have someone I want all y’all to meet.” Maggie gestured to a young brunette standing next to her in the crowded tent. Maggie stood behind the empty chair and put an arm on the shoulder of the young woman. “Everybody, this is Fiona. She’s new to Paradise Valley, and I offered to introduce her ’round.”
“Hello, Fiona.” Emily was first to greet her, but the others quickly followed.
Isabel’s training in the FBI caused her to always be the first to question and be suspicious. “Where did you two meet?” she asked. Isabel sounded interested, but wore a far-too-analytical look for mere small talk.
“Fiona was in one of my aerobics classes at the Y,” Maggie replied.
“Yes, in aerobics class.” Fiona nodded. “I don’t know anyone here yet, so I figured there might be people I could get to know in an exercise class.”
“Why don’t you two grab some food and come and eat with us?” Emily suggested.
“I already told y’all, no fried bull’s testicles for me,” Maggie shot back.
“What?” Fiona’s eyes widened with surprise as she looked down at the half-eaten food on the plates. “What are you eating?”
“Bull’s testicles,” Maggie repeated, linking her arm through Fiona’s and pulling her away from the tent.
The friends at the table burst out in laughter at Maggie’s over-the-top disgust with their dining choice. Soon conversation began to flow again and the meal was quickly devoured.
Camille was seated across the table from Isabel and Emily, and she leaned in toward them as if she was about to say something of great importance. In response, they inclined forward as well.
“Did Maggie tell you yet about the man she met?” Camille asked, dipping her chin and raising an eyebrow for emphasis. She glanced over at the husbands, who were thick in conversation about the latest baseball scores and rankings.
“No. What man?” Emily asked.
“Yeah, what man?” Isabel repeated with typical concern.
“Well, I thought she would have spilled the beans by now, so don’t tell her I told you girls, but she met a man on one of those online dating sites.” Camille sat back in her chair, running her hands through her short spiky red hair, an intentional pause, as if to let that information sink in.
“I don’t like the sound of that.” Isabel pushed her long black waves over her shoulder. “You never know what kind of kook or pervert is lurking on