Zoe: We love you, Izzy!!
I’m about to toss my phone down when I peek at the flowers, then shoot off one more text.
Izzy: Your ridiculous flowers are stillhere.
Maybe it’s because I’m an overachiever, but I love September. It’s a fresh start. The mornings have a bite, and the trees are kissed with just a hint of color. It’s anticipatory magic of what’s to come.
I’m carrying the last pumpkin out to my small fenced-in yard when I hear the doorbell. I run in through the house and open the front door. The girls stand together with two cases of Sam Adams and plastic bags of Chinese takeout.
“It sounded serious,” Sarah says, stepping past me. She brushes her hand over her auburn hair. “Nico is handling bedtime tonight. I’m all yours.”
I clasp my hands to my chest, so happy. Sarah’s usually juggling Arlo and baby Olive, so the fact she’s here, kid-free on a weeknight, means a lot. She works at the coffee shop while dreaming of opening an art gallery someday. But for right now, she’s here. For me.
“I’m flattered,” I tease, stepping back to allow everyone inside. Suddenly, it’s as if the living room grows bigger. I feel like I can finally breathe since this afternoon.
Sloane glances around. “Shit, Izzy, I keep forgetting how cute your place is.”
In between reading, I love to decorate. My place is full of tiny treasures I’ve thrifted and painted, and I might have a serious addiction to disco balls. I think a girl can’t have enough rainbows in her life. And when I’m bored, or maybe have one too many margaritas, I paint designs around the doorways and windows of my small beach cottage.
“So, what’s wrong?” Maisie sets down the beer on the small dining table in my kitchen.
“Nothing,” I lie. “I thought we could all use a break.”
“You take such good care of us.” Zoe swoops in and pulls me in for a hug, then whispers against my ear, “You seem off. Everything okay with yourmom?”
I shake my head as she pulls away. Luckily, she knows by now I’d rather not talk about it.
“Grab a beer, ladies,” I offer. “We can sit on the deck and eat before it gets too cold.”
“No, don’t say it,” Sarah whines. “I’m not ready for winter.”
We all chuckle before we step outside. Summer is something we chase all year long, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to starting a strict Vitamin D regimen to prepare for another Northeast winter.
The crickets’ chorus hums loudly, and a few butterflies hover along the hedge of the zinnias and sunflowers I planted this spring.
“We’re carving pumpkins already?”
“We could,” I say, “but I had another plan.” I dash inside the small she-shed in the back I use for extra book storage, then emerge with a handful of bats. Luckily, having a house full of boys next door paid off. I agreed to buy them pumpkins tomorrow if I could borrow their bats tonight.
I hold them up, grinning. “No need for a rage room when we can just do it here. We’re smashing pumpkins tonight.”
“Well, this is perfect. Chinese, beer, and a healthy outlet for some pent-up anger.” Sloane grins. “Let’s do it.”
Sarah scratches the back of her neck, tilting her head toward her best friend from high school. “What do you have to be mad about? Is banging a hot lobsterman who’s utterly obsessed with you and moonlights as a chef too much?”
Sloane flips her off. “I’ll picture Jason’s face.”
“That asshole,” Maisie chimes in, “deserves it.”
Maybe her ex-fiancé shouldn’t have knocked up his ex before his wedding to Sloane. So, honestly, asshole is justified.
We each grab a bat and stand in front of the pumpkins. I count down from five. On one, we all yell and smashthe bats down. It’s tougher than I thought, but mine gives a satisfying crack before it splits.
“Jesus, Izzy, whose face are you imagining?” Sloane asks, slinging her bat over her shoulder and popping her hip.
“She’s still pissed about the auction,” Zoe chimes in.
“Am not.” I am, a little. “Not really.”
