Sandra sighed. Probably not.
She scanned the room and easily spotted her friend seated at a table near the bar. The old-fashioned, schoolmarm bun Vicki Ahlfors kept her long hair swept up in had given her away.
Sandra smiled, the sight of her friend buoying her sagging spirits.
“Sorry I’m late.” She leaned over and gave her a quick hug.
“Where have you been hiding all day?” Vicki asked. “I came upstairs to see if you were free for lunch, but the lights in your studio were off and the door was locked.”
Best friends since high school, Sandra, Vicki and Janelle Howerton were also business partners. The trio ran their complementary businesses out of a three-story Victorian located a block from Main Street.
Vicki’s flower shop, Petals, occupied the first floor, Sandra’s Swoon Couture was on the second, while Janelle operated her events planning business, Alluring Affairs, from the top floor. The arrangement had been profitable as well as convenient, and the three of them often collaborated on some of the town’s splashiest weddings and social functions.
“I worked from home today.” Sandra plopped down at the table across from her. “Then my folks stopped over.”
Vicki frowned. “But I thought they went to New York City right after Janelle’s wedding to visit friends.”
Sandra’s gaze flicked to the empty chair at their table, before turning to the waiter who’d come to take her drink order.
“White wine?” the college kid who often waited tables on Monday nights guessed.
Sandra looked across at Vicki’s white wine spritzer. She automatically nodded, but changed her mind. She definitely needed something stronger this evening.
“On second thought...” She picked up the drinks menu. Within moments she’d narrowed down her choices to either a manhattan or a red apple cidertini.
“It’s not on the menu, but this week’s special is a pumpkin martini,” the waiter suggested.
“Sounds great,” Sandra said. “I’ll take it.”
When he’d left to retrieve the drink, Sandra noticed her friend eyeing her suspiciously.
“What did your dad say this time?” Vicki asked.
Sandra’s mouth dropped open. “How’d you know he...”
“The combination of your folks dropping by unexpectedly and you ordering a cocktail make it obvious,” she said. “So what did he do? Call your sketch pad a coloring book again? Complain you were rotting your brilliant brain playing paper dolls and dress up?”
“Doesn’t matter what he said now,” Sandra said. “I’m the problem. Me and my big mouth.”
She quickly filled her friend in on her parents’ visit, from them dumping another designer’s dresses on her to alter, to her father’s nonstop praise of his friend’s superdaughter, and finally Sandra’s big, dumb Thanksgiving offer.
Vicki’s eyes widened to the size of Ping-Pong balls.
“But...” her friend began. The horrified look on her face matched the restaurant’s scary decor.
Their waiter returned with Sandra’s martini. When he left, Vicki leaned across the table. “I know your dad can sometimes be a bit much, but what on earth possessed you to say such a thing?” she asked. “You can’t cook.”
“That’s an understatement.” Sandra took a tentative sip of her drink, the syrupy sweetness of pumpkin and maple syrup disguising the vodka’s kick.
“Remember when you baked chocolate chip cookies for the cheerleader fund-raiser?”
Sandra rolled her eyes skyward and snorted. “Don’t remind me. I think my dad is still getting dental bills from people biting down on those hockey pucks.”
The waiter reappeared to take their dinner orders. Again, Sandra opted for one of the restaurant’s Halloween specials, pumpkin ravioli in a lobster cream sauce, while her friend ordered the broiled haddock.
“So what are you going to do?” Vicki asked after the waiter left.
Sandra sighed. “The way I see it, I only have two options. Either tell my folks I misspoke, or buy myself a cookbook, a set of pots and pans and start practicing. I could do a trial run with a small dinner party with you, Janelle and Ballard.”
“Oh, no. I’m not playing guinea pig.” Vicki put her hand up and shook her head. “And I’m sure Janelle isn’t going to subject her new husband’s stomach to your kitchen experiments.”
Again, Sandra glanced at the empty chair. “But you’re my best friends, and I need you,” she said, her tone a mixture of whining and pleading. “We’re The Silk Sisters, remember?”
She’d hoped tossing out their old high school nickname, now the name of the corporation the trio had formed with their businesses, would soften Vicki’s stance.
Instead, the florist frowned. “As your best friend, I’d suggest you swallow your pride, go crawling to your dad and beg off cooking Thanksgiving dinner.” She took a sip of wine. “Or for that matter, any meal.”
Sandra took an unladylike gulp from her own drink. “Crawl and beg, huh?”
Vicki nodded once. “Exactly.”
Fifteen minutes later, their waiter slid hot plates bearing their dinner in front of them. Sandra gazed down at her food. It looked and smelled delicious, but all she could think about was the smug expression on her father’s face when she reneged after insisting she’d cook.
“I know you’re right.” Sandra sighed. “But my dad would never let me hear the end of it. He’ll be ribbing me until New Year’s.”
Vicki speared a piece of fish with her fork. “Better than your entire family spending Thanksgiving in the bathroom, at the dentist or even worse, the emergency room at Wintersage Hospital.”
Sandra opened her mouth to protest, but knew she didn’t have a case. Instead, she helped herself to a mouthful of ravioli.
“Okay, I’ll call off the bet,” she said, having decided to see her parents first thing tomorrow morning and cancel plans to have Thanksgiving at her place. “So what’s going on with you, besides being inundated with orders for fall harvest floral arrangements?”
Vicki looked up from her plate. “Planning my parade float for the annual Wintersage Christmas Celebration. I know it’s a while away, but I still have so much to do. I got sidetracked helping with Janelle’s wedding.”
“Same here,” Sandra agreed. “But it was a beautiful wedding. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so happy.”
This time they both cast a glance at the empty chair at their table. Sandra wasn’t sure how long she stared at the seat that usually would have been occupied by their friend.
“Janelle didn’t leave town for good, you know,” Vicki said. “She’s just on her honeymoon. She’ll be back next week, in time for the election.”
“Yeah, I know.” Sandra shrugged.
No way would Janelle miss the election, not with her father running against Oliver Windom in the most talked about race in the state.
“Then why that face?”
Sandra didn’t need a mirror to know she looked as if she’d lost her best friend, because no matter how Vicki put it, the reality was she had. While Vicki hadn’t come on the scene until she transferred from the local public high school to Wintersage Academy in the tenth grade, Sandra and Janelle