Jo wiggled into the conversation. “Mel has an adorable little girl. Looks just like her.”
Josie kept smiling. “Did your husband come with you?”
Zoe crowded in front of Melanie. “She dumped him years ago.”
Josie seemed lost. “I guess that’s a good thing then.”
“How about some drinks?” Wyatt asked when silence filled the table.
“I’ll have another one of these,” Luke said, waving his beer in the air. “Zoe? Rum and Coke?”
“Perfect,” Zoe said.
“What about you, Mel?”
“I’m driving everyone home. I’ll have a Sprite.”
Jo and Wyatt ordered two more longnecks before Josie sauntered off.
Melanie held her head in both hands. “That’s going to get old fast.”
“Let it roll, Mel.”
Melanie shook her head, Zoe patted her on the back, and Jo kept talking. “None of these people have lived the perfect life.”
Wyatt felt like a third wheel. “What needs to roll?”
Luke opened his mouth to talk, and Melanie cut him off. “I was supposed to be the one who left here and came back rich and powerful.”
Wyatt met Melanie’s eyes and saw the raw disappointment in them. This meant something to her . . . this censure from her peers of the past.
“The problem with class reunions is everyone judges the others on wealth and the size of their waists. Personal happiness and health never seem to be a part of the measurement. Are you happy, Melanie?” Jo asked.
Melanie glanced at Wyatt, the smile on her lips finally met her eyes, and his stomach twisted. “I’m working on it.”
Wyatt saluted her with his beer before taking a swig.
Bed-and-breakfasts didn’t often have a rush . . . but Miss Gina’s was the exception on the Wednesday before the high school reunion. It helped that the closest motel was a good ten miles outside of town, and a handful of RV parks rounded out the accommodations for visitors.
Melanie forced herself to smile in the face of her high school nemesis. “Hello, Margie.”
“My goodness, just look at you.” Margie Taylor stood beside her fiancé, her arm looped through his as if she were the prize. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
Melanie found her eyes traveling to Margie’s excessive cleavage. Cleavage that certainly hadn’t been there in high school. Cleavage Mel was used to seeing in the big cities of Southern California, but saline cleavage that didn’t exist in River Bend.
“We’ve all changed.” Melanie attempted to smile and look beyond the boobs. She suddenly felt like a member of the opposite sex. Who knew boobs had such radar.
“Jonathan, Melanie and I were on the cheer squad together.” Margie draped an arm over her fiancé’s shoulder, pressing her massive rack into his arm.
Jonathan had to be a good ten years older than Margie, the suit he wore wasn’t terribly expensive from what Mel could tell, but it wasn’t ill-fitting either. He was reasonably attractive with a strong jaw and completely disinterested eyes.
“I quit cheer my sophomore year,” Melanie reminded her.
Margie waved her hand in the air. “Splitting hairs, Melanie. Once on the squad, forever on the squad.”
That wasn’t how she remembered it. Instead of offering an argument, Melanie pulled out the key for Margie and Jonathan’s room and set it on the registration counter. “Miss Gina has you down as staying through Sunday.”
“It’s so nice of you to help Miss Gina out. Poor woman isn’t getting any younger.”
Don’t let her hear you saying that sat unsaid on Melanie’s lips. Let Miss Gina overhear Margie and see how fast it would take for Margie and her suit-wearing fiancé to find themselves at the RV park inside their car.
“Do the rooms have Internet access?” Jonathan finally spoke.
“The house has Wi-Fi access throughout,” Melanie told him.
“Is there a code?”
Melanie forced herself not to laugh. “No one is concerned with stealing Miss Gina’s Internet service.”
“I told you it was a small town, darling,” Margie said.
Jonathan let his eyes wander the foyer without an ounce of amusement.
“It’s only a few days.”
Melanie clicked a few keys on Miss Gina’s computer and removed a receipt for Margie and her reluctant fiancé’s room.
“Breakfast is from seven to nine thirty. There are refreshments in the sitting room throughout the day, and a wine and cheese reception between five and six thirty on Friday and Saturday.”
Margie offered a plastic smile to match her plastic breasts. “That’s lovely . . . isn’t that lovely, Jonathan?”
Jonathan didn’t comment as he grumbled and let Margie pull him away.
“The garden view room is on the second story, first door on the left.”
Jonathan said something about a lack of a bellhop, and Margie tugged on his arm.
“Thank you for waiting.” Melanie addressed the young family standing in the space Margie and her squeeze had just vacated. A boy, not more than six, attempted to climb up onto the counter.