Molly beat six eggs in a ceramic bowl, her belly pressed against the counter. In the cast-iron pan, bacon sizzled. Victoria sat at the round table sucking on a strawberry. The jacket of her jogging suit hung on the white chair. Her tank top showed off her muscular arms. “It’s such a good day,” Molly said. She loved this time of year. During their morning walk, two bluebirds had chased each other from tree to tree. The bulbs she’d planted in the fall had bloomed in purples, reds, and yellows across her yard. Roses graced her entrance, their fragrance filled her living room. Victoria twisted the green top off a strawberry. “Why don’t we bring Heather some muffins and brownies? Maybe convince her to go shopping?” “Hmmm.” Molly knew Bill worried about Heather’s impact on the community. And it was more than residual resentment from the party—there was a fear among her friends that their reign was ending. Molly knew her children worried about her and Bill living on their own.
