perfected, the more her dream expanded and took on new life.
“Who had something good happen to them this week?” Bethany asked her rapt, wine-sipping audience, a smile stretching across her pretty face. She held her dry-erase marker in front of the whiteboard she’d erected—or the Positivity Board, as they’d collectively begun referring to it. “Anyone?”
“I got a good deal on having the brakes replaced on my Chevy,” said one of the women. “The mechanic tried to highball me. I turned him down and he started singing a different tune.”
Bethany wrote “brakes” in loopy script on the Positivity Board.
“Er—um, a new position at my job,” piped in another member who rarely spoke up. As soon as everyone turned to look at her, she tried to sink into Bethany’s plush white couch. “I was promoted. You’re looking at the new head loan officer at Town and Center Bank.”
“Oh shit! That’s amazing.” Bethany did a little dance as everyone applauded. “Congratulations. Did you ask for the promotion or was it a surprise?”
“I asked for it.” The loan officer sat up a little straighter, visibly bolstered by everyone patting her on the shoulders. “I don’t mean to be sappy, but I don’t think I would have if it wasn’t for this club.”
Rosie smiled to herself as she moved the alfajores onto a serving plate and carried them into the living room. She set them down on the coffee table, laughing as Georgie pulled her backward into an empty seat on the couch. Their resident clown was slightly tipsy tonight, but she was charming. Earlier, she’d greeted newcomers with a juggling act on the porch until Bethany dragged her in from the cold.
“You smell nice.” Georgie sighed, laying her head on Rosie’s shoulder. “I love you.”
“You say that to all the girls.”
“But I mean it with you, baby.”
Rosie pressed her lips together to subdue her smile. “Are you celebrating something with your six margaritas?”
“Nope. Yes.” Georgie hiccupped. “Eh. Just needed a little liquid courage.”
“Care to share your conversation with the class, ladies?” Bethany called with a mock-stern expression, everyone laughing at her halfhearted reprimand.
“It’s now or never, I guess. I have something.” Georgie put her hand up, then seemed to realize that hand was holding a sloshing margarita on the rocks and lowered it. “Me and Travis picked a wedding venue.”
“What?” Bethany dropped her dry-erase marker and didn’t bother to pick it up. “Excuse me, Georgette Castle, why was I not brought along as a consultant?”
“I didn’t want to play referee. You would have disagreed with all of Travis’s choices just to exasperate him.”
Bethany waved that off. “Ah, come on. I’ve stopped needling him so much.” She slumped. “Hard to hate the guy who proposed to you live on the air.”
“With several adoring high school kids in tow,” Rosie added, patting Georgie on the shoulder. “The man has flair.”
“Damn right, Ro. And I’m sorry we ruined your fun, Bethany,” Georgie said, taking a long sip of her drink. “But we decided on Oheka Castle—”
Gasps all around the room.
“—and we’re going with kind of an unusual theme. It’s called ‘famous baseball player turned famous announcer marries local clown and everyone thinks he’s crazy.’ Or has that theme been overdone?”
Sensing a deeper layer to Georgie’s flippancy, Rosie sent Bethany a look and noticed she was concerned, too. Actually, the silence in the room said everyone was concerned. They’d witnessed Georgie and Travis fall in love and watched his proposal during a Just Us League meeting. Everyone had skin in the game.
“I’m kind of freaking out,” Georgie said, sweeping the room with wide eyes. “When we were looking at churches, I just kept thinking about how everyone is going to be staring a-and comparing me to who he dated before. And how I never dated anyone before because I was like, this total scrub.”
Rosie put an arm around Georgie’s shoulders. “It’s okay to be nervous. Everyone gets nervous when they’re about to take a huge step,” Rosie said, squeezing her. “Except Travis. Travis would have already married you six times, because the man is crazy in love with you.”
Georgie started to respond, but the front door of Bethany’s house blew open and the object of their conversation stood outlined in the frame, all six foot three inches of the rangy ex–baseball player.
Someone yelled, “Intruder!”
Travis ignored them. “Where’s my girl?”
Everyone pointed at Georgie, who turned on the couch to face her fiancé. “Oh, hi, Travis. What are you doing here?”
Eyes narrowing, he took his cell phone out of his