Page 58 of Between the Lines

“Exactly.” Darcy’s smile widened, just enough to suggest satisfaction. She gestured with her empty fork. “There’s a lot of social capital concentrated in one place here. Women with money, time, experience, and influence.” She lifted her shoulders in a small shrug. “That’s not something to waste.”

Gigi nodded eagerly as she stabbed at a slice of cucumber. “I said the same thing! There’s so much potential if people would just stop doing the same old things.”

Cece’s pen stilled again. She ignored Gigi. “And what does that look like to you?” she asked Darcy. “Not wasting it, I mean.”

Darcy hesitated a beat too long to be casual. Then she said, “It looks like creating something new. A space where women don’t have to fit into roles they didn’t choose. Where they can be…deliberate about what comes next.”

“Is that what this new group is about?” Cece asked, keeping her tone neutral. “The one that’s taking place at the Community Hall? The one Gigi reserved the room for?”

Briefly, Cece thought Darcy might get up and leave. Then Darcy met her gaze head-on. For the first time since Cece had arrived, there was no smile at all. “I suppose you could say that,” she said. “It’ll be informal at first, so that those who are interested can have a chance to get to know each other. From there, we’ll get organized. See what needs tackling. That kind of thing.”

“And the goal?” Cece pressed.

Darcy pierced a chunk of chicken and lifted it. “To see who’s paying attention,” she said. “And who isn’t.” She put the chicken in her mouth and chewed.

There it was.

Cece nodded slowly, as if that answer made perfect sense, which it didn’t. Not exactly. Even so, her instincts lit up like a warning system. This wasn’t a book club. This wasn’t a support group. This was some kind of mechanism for change, but what kind of change?

It was clear Darcy wanted followers. That’s how it felt to Cece. But for what purpose?

Before Cece could ask that question, Gigi laughed lightly. “Darcy makes it sound so serious. It’s really just women getting together to talk.”

Darcy’s smile returned, smooth as ever. “All important things start as conversations,” she said. “Don’t they?”

Cece went back to her salad, thinking hard about what Darcy might be up to. “Yes,” she said. “They do.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

By the time they got home from church, Mattie had reached that particular kind of tired that came from sitting still too long and being told, repeatedly, to use his indoor voice. Children’s church hadn’t worn him out the way Essie had hoped it would.

He hadn’t melted down yet, but Essie could see it coming like gathering storm clouds. Liliana carried Mira in, carefully navigating the front steps. The toddler’s cheeks were pink and her eyes heavy with sleep.

Essie unlocked the door and stepped inside first, letting the familiar coolness of the house wrap around them.

“Shoes,” she said automatically as Mattie started to race into the living room.

He skidded to a stop, then worked at his sneakers with exaggerated frustration, huffing loudly as if no one in history had ever been asked to remove footwear before.

Liliana smiled faintly. “We should have brought more snacks.”

“We should have brought more snacks and more patience,” Essie said, and that earned her a tired laugh. “Don’t worry, I’ll get some lunch together quickly, then we can head to the pool and eat there.”

“Sounds good,” Liliana said. “I’ll get Mattie into his trunks.”

Essie didn’t change, just went straight to the kitchen. Church had been comforting, but it also took energy. All that smiling and talking to people and managing the children. Essie loved her church family, but by the time she got home, she was ready to unwind.

She still wished Sophie had come.

Essie had invited her, gently, the way she tried to invite Sophie to everything now. Without any pressure and without any kind of expectation.

Sophie had been polite, brief, and distant. Like yesterday had never happened. No, thanks. I’m going to the beach.

As Essie pulled a pitcher of lemonade out of the fridge, she told herself it was all right. The beach made sense for Sophie in a way little else did. If she needed space, that was the place to get it.

Still, Essie had hoped. She thought church would do the young woman some good. The people were so warm and friendly. She’d felt like that was the kind of support Sophie needed. If she’d even let herself be supported like that.

Which, obviously, she hadn’t.