Essie got to work cracking eggs. Some of her appetite had come back since talking to Frank. The pit of dread in her stomach wasn’t nearly as bad. But that sense of waiting for the other shoe to drop remained.
Her phone vibrated. She cracked the last egg, wiped her hands and checked the screen. Another text from Liliana.
You know, Mom, ultimately, who cares what Sophie says about you? Unless she’s actively trying to destroy your marriage, let her rage. I think people see her pettiness. I really do.
Thanks.Essie smiled. Her daughter made a good point. Sophie’s snide little digs hurt, but Essie could also choose to ignore them. And Sophie. At least until a holiday forced them into proximity. She grimaced, thinking about Thanksgiving again. That conversation with Frank needed to happen soon.
Liliana answered.But also, if you want to start a TT of your own, let me know and I will set you up. You’d kill. Just saying.
Essie laughed.I think I’m good.
I bet you’d be great at it.
Maybe.She had yet to tell her daughter about Paige and the Queen Bees. Maybe after breakfast and Frank was out the door, she’d call Liliana and fill her in more thoroughly. She had to make potato salad today, too.
She whisked the eggs until they were silky smooth. The butter in the pan was melted, but her mind went elsewhere for a moment. Should she start her own TikTok? Not without good reason. And what would that reason be?
She tipped the eggs into the pan, trading her whisk for a spatula.
Maybe to show Sophie that her father was very happy and that their life together was good. Would that make any difference?
Essie stirred the eggs. It was something worth thinking about. And maybe worth having a little conversation with Paige about, too.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Maude rolled out of bed in her red boy-short underwear and Wonder Woman tank top and after a quick stretch, went into the kitchen to get coffee. Today felt like it was going to take more than a cup. Fortunately, she had a combination coffee maker that could use K-cups or percolate an entire pot.
Once the pot was started, her next stop was Pixel’s tank. She dropped two pellets in. “Morning, Pixy. How did you sleep?”
He was much more interested in his food than her. She let him eat and went back to the coffee.
She’d slept fitfully, her worries about Ollie waking her up more than once. Worry wasn’t the right word. She hurt for him, she supposed. She’d never been through a divorce, but she’d known plenty of people who had and not one of them had said it was a fun experience.
It changed people. She’d seen it. Made them wary of relationships, made them distrustful of the opposite sex. Made them question their own worth and their ability to make smart choices and wise decisions.
She could only imagine what Ollie was going through.
She went out to the living room and checked on the flowers. Some of them had opened a bit more and the pickle jar needed water. She took the makeshift vase into the kitchen and held the flowers to one side so she could fill it.
She carried the flowers out onto the porch, came back in for her coffee, phone, and iPad, and took a seat on her lounger, not bothering with a robe. Yes, if the neighbors really wanted to see her in her underwear, they could, but she didn’t care. She was more covered in her sleepwear than she was in her bikini.
The thought made her smile. This was the way all mornings should start. With coffee, flowers from someone nice, a good book, and no concern for what anyone else thought.
For a few minutes, she did nothing but sit there, drink coffee, and stare out at the water. It was far enough away that all she could see was a line of blue at the bottom of the horizon, but it was still nice.
As she came awake, she considered the day ahead of her. She wanted to check in with her parents and see how they were doing. She texted them regularly, but it wasn’t the same as a phone call. She might text her brother, too, just to say hi.
She’d have emails to deal with, of course. Hopefully, none with issues that took too long. She really wanted to hit the beach and read her book. She imagined at some point Paige would send a group text and let them know how Lester was doing.
Maude doubted they’d get to see him until he was out of the ICU after his surgery. That made her think about Althea and how she was holding up. Would she be at home or at the hospital? Maude really had no idea. Paige would probably know. If Althea was home and needed company, Maude could go over.
She yawned. Once she woke up a little more, she’d text Paige and see what the deal was. Paige had probably woken up hours ago, worked out, had a sensible breakfast, and was now on her third TikTok post for the day.
A little snort-laugh escaped Maude. Just for fun, she looked up Paige on TikTok to see what kind of content she was producing.
Didn’t take much searching to find her. Maude clicked the Follow button and settled in to watch some videos.
Paige was a smart woman. She had great delivery, a winning smile, and was always so well put together that even if she hadn’t been pretty and fit, she would have come off that way. She knew how to dress, how to do her hair, how to wear just the right amount of makeup.
