It was a short reach across the table for all to clink glasses, which they did.
Lindsay said, “I’m thankful to Cindy for taking care of Martha while I was away and for putting together this wonderful Thanksgiving dinner. It was such a good idea to celebrate with a turkey. But I’m also wondering what I’ve missed. Did anything happen? At all?”
Conklin said, “Nah. Nothing.”
“Not much,” said Cindy. But then she leaned in closer to Lindsay and added, “We were just on the juiciest case ever.”
“Are you kidding me?” said Lindsay.
“Well,” said Cindy, “It was in the top ten, anyway.”
And Claire said, “It was definitely a murder case for the ages.”
EPILOGUE
Claire was the first to open Joan’s handwritten invitation for holiday drinks with her new friends, saying it was a “surprise” venue that was for “girls only.”
Claire called Cindy, Lindsay, and Yuki, and they were all in.
A driver picked them each up from their offices and drove them out to the Pier 39 Marina at Fisherman’s Wharf. The car was a Bentley, and Cindy immediately located the champagne in an ice bucket in the backseat of the car, which made the ride merry and bright.
After a short while, the driver delivered the Women’s Murder Club to a slip of land, where Joan and Marjorie were waiting for them. Joan was bundled up in charcoal cashmere and had her mother’s large diamond pendant around her neck.
The night was cool, but it wasn’t cold, and the sky was clear, providing a beautiful backdrop for the marina. There were at least three hundred double-fingered boat slips docked along the pier, and the women took in incredible views of Alcatraz and the Golden Gate Bridge.
Joan embraced each of her guests, including Lindsay, whom she’d never met. “I’ve heard so much about you,” she said, giving her shoulders an extra squeeze.
“I’ve heard a bit about you, too,” Lindsay said.
They laughed and hugged again.
A gorgeous motor yacht pulled up in front of them. It was a seventy-two-foot cabin cruiser with a long, open bridge and old-fashioned brass lights hung along the teakwood trim. The captain’s name was Gina Marie, and she looked impeccable in her white uniform and red lipstick. She gave each of them a wide smile as she welcomed them aboard.
Lindsay and Cindy cast off the lines, and Gina Marie started up the engine. Then the guests went down to the lounge, where Marjorie served champagne and hors d’oeuvres. She sat next to Joan when everyone was served and joined the festivities. But the question still lingered: what was the occasion?
Once the yacht was skimming the bay at a comfortable ten knots, Joan stood up with her glass in her hand.
Claire thought Joan looked lighter and happier than she’d seen her three months before. She’d healed well. Her hair was longer and blonder. The scarf around her neck flew like a pendant over her shoulder. Her many diamonds sparkled like stars.
“I have an important announcement to make,” she said.
Everyone looked up at Joan.
“I’ve asked Robert to move out of the house. And I’ve filed for divorce, which I think I’ll be able to get without any problems.”
Claire said, “Wow.”
Cindy echoed the “wow,” adding, “Way to go, Joan.”
Joan laughed and then lifted her glass. “So I want to make a toast to all of you. Here’s to friendship.”
It was difficult to maintain their balance on the moving yacht, but everyone stood up to hug each other.
For the rest of the ride, no one answered a phone. Dinner was delicious and memorable. Joan entertained the women with stories from her fabulous life. She’d rubbed shoulders with many celebrities over the years, and even clued the ladies in to a secret romance that she had with a very elusive actor.
There was clapping and laughter and champagne toasts to round out a great celebratory girls’ night.
The first, it felt, of many to come.