“My guess is that yours was lost long before that. Don’t look so shocked. I’m not a psychic or anything. We tell each other everything. You guys had a rough time of it growing up.”
Meghann shifted uncomfortably. She wasn’t used to people knowing so much about her. Not friends, and certainly not strangers. Her childhood was something she’d never shared with a girlfriend, not even Elizabeth. She remembered how people had looked at her when she was a child, as if she were white trash; she hadn’t wanted that judgment to follow her into adulthood.
Karen seemed to be waiting for a response. The moment lengthened between them. Meg’s heartbeat accelerated. She didn’t want this conversation to continue. These Bluesers were too damn blunt.
“Okay, everyone, it’s time for the games!” Gina yelled suddenly, jumping to her feet.
Meghann let out her breath in a relieved sigh.
“Gina loves games,” Karen said. “I just hope no one has to humiliate themselves. It was nice to see you again. I better run. Harold just started hyperventilating.” And she was gone, back to her husband in a blink.
“Outside,” Gina said, clapping her hands again and ushering everyone outside, where a row of powdered-sugar doughnuts hung at intervals along a sagging clothesline. “Everyone pick a doughnut and stand in front of it.
The guests surged forward, lining up.
Meghann hung back in the doorway.
“Come on, Meg,” Gina called out. “There’s a place for you, too.”
Everyone turned to look at her.
She hurried across the porch and out into the yard. The sweet smell of honeysuckle and roses filled the night air. Somewhere nearby there must be a pond, because frogs were croaking en masse. It gave the evening an odd, surreal edge—or maybe that came from the swinging doughnuts.
“When I start the stopwatch, everyone starts licking the sugar off the doughnuts. This will tell us who is the best kisser.”
A man laughed. Meghann thought it was Charlotte’s husband. “If you want to know who has the best tongue, we should be licking—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Charlotte said, laughing.
“Go. And no fair using hands.”
The group went at it. Within seconds, everyone was laughing.
Meghann tried, she really did, but at her first pass, the doughnut hit her in the nose and white sugar fluttered down the front of her black Armani.
“Done!” Bobby yelled, throwing his hands in the air as if he’d just scored the game-winning run.
Claire put her arms around him. “And there you have it, the real reason I’m marrying him.”
Meghann stepped back from the undulating doughnut. Once again, she was the only one not laughing, and her silence settled on her chest like Hester Prynne’s scarlet A.
Gina handed Bobby a CD. “You win. And I must say, none of us will ever look at you quite the same again.” She rushed back into the house, then came out with a big white porcelain bowl. “The next game is called Truth in M&M’s. Everybody take as many as you want, then find a seat.” She went around the group, handing out candy.
Meghann could tell that she wasn’t the only suspicious person. No one took a handful. Meg chose two, then sat down on the top porch step. Everyone else pulled up a patch of grass and sat down.
“For each M&M, you have to tell one thing about the bride or groom and make a prediction for the future.”
A groan moved through the men.
Harold rolled his eyes; Karen elbowed him.
“I’ll start,” Charlotte said. “I have three. Claire has a beautiful smile, and I predict Bobby will keep it on her face. Also, she is a great cook, so I predict he’ll be fat by forty. And finally, she hates to do laundry, so I predict Bobby will learn to like the stained, rumpled look.”
Claire laughed the loudest of all of them.
“My turn,” Karen said. “I’m on a diet—as usual—so I only picked one. Claire has developed a … fondness for electrical devices. I predict she won’t need one anymore.”
“Karen!” Claire cried out, her face turning red even as she laughed.
They continued around the circle, and with each comment, Meghann felt herself edging toward uneasiness. Even the husbands here seemed to know more about Claire’s everyday life than Meghann did, and she was terrified that when her turn came to make a prediction, she’d blurt out, I predict he breaks her heart. She finished her second margarita in gulps.
“Meg? Meg?” It was Gina. “Your turn.”
Meghann looked down in her palm. Sweat had turned the candies into red smudges. “I have two.” She tried to smile. “Claire is … the best mother I know, so I predict she’ll have another child.”
Claire smiled at her, then leaned lovingly against Bobby, who whispered something in her ear.
“Another one, Meg.”
She nodded. “Claire loves well, but not necessarily easily, so I predict,” she barely paused, “that this is the real thing.” When she looked up, Claire was frowning.