“She’s grabbing an Uber and heading to the condo.”
Her eyebrow lifts into the air. “I could use a few drinks,” Nina says. “Better stop off at the liquor store.”
I nod, veering toward the town center.
Leave it to Lanie to pull a sneak visit last minute. She can’t possibly have known how much Nina is going to need us tonight. Or maybe she did.
Lanie’s arrival witha small bag in hand is met with raised eyebrows and curious glances from Nina and me, because Lanie Anderson does not pack light. Ever. This can only mean she was in a major hurry to skip town. The question is…why?
“I’m here, witches. Let’s see what The Communes is all about,” she announces with a mischievous grin.
Nina darts forward, wrapping Lanie in a tight embrace. “I’m so happy you’re here,” she practically whispers.
Lanie steps back slightly, studying Nina’s expression. “Are you okay? I can’t imagine how hard today must’ve been for you.” Nina shrugs, a half-hearted smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
“I will be soon.”
“Let’s get you settled and open a bottle of something strong,” I suggest, motioning toward the bedroom. “There’s only one bed, but the couch pulls out. You can keep your stuff back in the bedroom.”
Lanie nods. “Sounds perfect to me. I’m just happy to be out of Knox.”
There’s something that Lanie isn’t saying, and while I want to get to the bottom of her unspoken reasons for rushing to Florida, now isn’t the time. She just arrived, and I don’t want to ruin the night before it’s even started. Nina needs our support, and if Lanie doesn’t want to share her secrets, then I won’t pry. For now.
Nina has been working to create a serene setting, complete with soft instrumental melodies playing in the background and the lights replaced by an array of candles she found in a closet in the hallway. I attempt to lend a hand, but she gently shoos me away, assigning me the important task of ensuring our wine is at the perfect temperature and we have plenty of reserves.
After a quick shower, Lanie emerges wearing a mismatched ensemble that seems more suited to Nina’s taste than her own. It’s a practical combination of shorts and a button-down shirt, showing Lanie’s sophistication and maturity, which isn’t something she typically embraces.
“Looks like someone’s been busy,” Lanie observes, her eyes sweeping over the room.
“Are those mine?” Nina inquires, gaze lifted from the candle she’d been lighting to focus on Lanie’s pajamas.
Lanie looks down and shrugs nonchalantly. “No clue. Found them in my drawer.”
A chuckle escapes me as Nina’s expression shifts, her nose wrinkling in apparent recollection of when she misplaced them.
Lanie expertly uncorks a bottle, the satisfying pop signaling the start of our wine-night ritual. Our glasses are filled to the brim with ruby-colored liquid, the rich aroma wafting through the air.
The condo is filled with chatter and the clinking of glasses as we settle in for our much-needed wine night. The stresses of the day melt away as we sink into the comfort of one another’s company, the glow of candlelight casting a warm ambiance around us.
Lanie regales us with tales of her latest yoga adventures, complete with the addition of a goat from Miller’s Farm. Her animated gestures only make the story better.
“The damn thing peed all over the place. It was like a goat fire hose, and to top it off, it decided my snake plant was the perfect spot to drop a deuce.” She scrunches up her nose. “It was an absolute menace, so I took it back to Jack Saunders and demanded my money back.”
“I bet Jack had a good laugh,” Nina says with a chuckle.
Lanie shrugs. “Couldn’t care less. His goat is broken.”
“I’m still trying to figure out why on earth you’d think bringing a farm animal into a building would be a good idea?”
Lanie makes a face. “Sharon Goldstein has been talking about some goat-yoga class in Silverton as though it’s the best thing on earth. It was making my regulars consider making the trip out there.” She shakes her head, appearing haughty. “I couldn’t allow that.”
“Well…looks like that worked out well for you,” Nina chimes in, and I smother a giggle at the glare Lanie sends her way.
Nina takes a sip of wine and clears her throat, signaling our conversation is about to drift to more serious matters.
“I’m so happy you’re here, Lanie, but can you please enlighten us on what compelled you to flee town so abruptly that you resortedto borrowing my pajamas and a bag we all know won’t even accommodate your nightly skin care routine?”
Lanie grimaces, hinting at the discomfort she’s trying to conceal. “Someone broke into my place. I couldn’t stay there, thinking they might come back.”
