“Of course, we will. We’ll still be bigger and stronger—for a while anyway—and we’ll gang up on ’em,” Emily assured her. “Come on. Let’s go inside and put together that strawberry shortcake you brought over. My mouth’s been watering since you got here. I love strawberry season, don’t you?”
Marcie finally relaxed. “I drove down to the fields to get these. They were huge and sweet as candy.” She leaned in and confided, “I had a fresh strawberry shake while I was there.”
Emily laughed. “If you’re going to make that drive then you have to have a shake. It’s a rule. Maybe we can take the kids down to the Everglades next weekend and go for a hike on one of the trails. We can stop for a shake on the way back.”
“A hike?” Marcie asked warily. “Won’t there be bugs?”
“Not this time of year. Just alligators,” Emily teased, trying and failing to hide a grin.
“Is that supposed to reassure me?”
“Come on,” Emily said. “The boys will love it.”
“And the rest of us?” Marcie asked, still skeptical.
“Will survive by thinking about the strawberry shake we’ll have afterward.”
“Aren’t men supposed to take their sons on outings like that?” Marcie asked.
Emily merely stared at her. “Derek and Ken? You have to be kidding.”
Marcie gave in to the urge to laugh. “You have a point, though I’d pay big money to see it.”
“Me, too,” Emily agreed, handing her two dishes piled high with shortcake topped with huge strawberries and a mound of whipped cream, then picking up a tray with the other bowls herself. “Let’s go sweeten them up with dessert. Who knows what we’ll be able to talk them into after that.”
Paula, Emily’s favorite coworker at school, had just undergone breast cancer surgery and it had all of the female teachers jittery. There was a sudden interest in breast self-exams and a flurry of appointments being made for mammograms.
Shaken more than she liked admitting, Emily came home from visiting Paula at the hospital and headed straight for Marcie’s, where the coffee was waiting, along with a sympathetic ear.
“How is she?” Marcie asked.
“Scared to death,” Emily told her. “The surgery’s almost the least of it. They want to do both radiation and chemo. She’s looking at a long, tough road with unpredictable results.”
They both fell silent.
“Did you call and make an appointment for a mammogram?” Emily asked eventually.
“First thing this morning,” Marcie told her. “My appointment’s for next week. You?”
“I’m scheduled to go in next week, too. I thought we were too young to be worrying about this. We’re only thirty-two, for crying out loud. I thought we had years before we had to start getting tested, but Paula’s only thirty-three. If she hadn’t found that lump, she’d never have known. She teaches the health and PE classes at school, so she’s the one woman who’s on top of these things.” She frowned. “I just hope to God it wasn’t too late.”
“Don’t even think like that,” Marcie admonished. “She’s going to be fine. She’s tough.”
Emily nodded. “And her husband’s been a real rock so far. Dave’s been by her side every step of the way, bless him, and I don’t see that changing.”
“I knew I liked him when you had them over for dinner last year during the holidays,” Marcie said. “And I’ve enjoyed getting together with Paula at your house to talk about books. She and I have the same taste and she always knows when the good books are being released and gives me a heads-up. I’m so glad you introduced us.”
“Maybe you could return the favor while she’s recuperating, take her a few books from time to time. She turns her nose up when I try to get her to read the classics.”
“Probably because she had to read them all in school. Now a good mystery, that’s always fresh.”
“Murder and mayhem, you mean,” Emily said. “I’ve seen your to-be-read pile. I don’t know how you sleep at night after you read that stuff.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sakes, I’m not reading thrillers about serial killers,” Marcie retorted. “They’re cozy mysteries with amateur sleuths. Hardly a drop of blood anywhere. It’s all about solving the crime.”
“Whatever,” Emily said, grinning at the defensive note in her voice. “I love teasing you about your reading material.”
“Really? Don’t think I don’t know about the stash of romance novels you have hidden under your stacks of Charles Dickens and Jane Austen,” Marcie countered.
Emily flushed. “How do you know about those?”
“Caitlyn, of course. She and Dani have been sneaking them to read.”
“I swear, I am going to kill my daughter,” Emily grumbled. “As my child, she’s supposed to be reading great literature.”
“She’s ten,” Marcie noted, her lips twitching.
“Well, there are plenty of great children’s books for that age.”
“Obviously her taste is as varied as her mom’s. Just be grateful she’s reading at all.”
“I should be, shouldn’t I?” Emily said, then sighed, her thoughts returning to their sick friend. “Can you think of anything else we should be doing for Paula?”
“Besides being there for her?” Marcie said. “I imagine that’s what she needs most—friends who will stick by her, take her to appointments, whatever. If you see her again before I do, tell her I’ll do that, by the way. I’m free most days. I can take her anywhere she needs to go.”
“She’ll appreciate that, I know. Now I’d better get home and think about getting dinner on the table.”
“I knew you’d be running late today, so I made an extra lasagna, if you want it.”
“Have I mentioned lately what an angel you are? What would I do without you?”
“Starve?” Marcie inquired wryly.
Emily grinned. “Not as long as half the restaurants in the neighborhood deliver, but you do give my children an opportunity to experience a home-cooked meal from time to time. For that, I am eternally grateful.”
Marcie chuckled. “So are they. Dani asked me the other day if I could teach her to boil water so she’d know more than mommy.”
“Ha-ha,” Emily retorted. “Very funny.”
“Well, she did,” Marcie insisted. “Seriously, both girls want me to give them cooking lessons.”
Emily shrugged. “Then by all means, go for it. Let me know if Dani’s any good at it. If she is, maybe I’ll be able to stay out of the kitchen altogether.”
“You hate cooking that much?” Marcie asked, her expression incredulous.
“I hate most things I’m lousy at. Cooking tops the list. Sewing’s a close second with household organization right on their heels.”
“All my favorite things,” Marcie said. “How on earth did we ever become such good friends?”
“Proximity?” Emily suggested. “And the fact that you’re one of the nicest people I’ve ever known.”
Marcie grinned. “Ditto. Now let me get you that lasagna.”