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How did Rayleen show love? With insults? With muttered complaints? Was that even possible?
Rayleen seemed to be done talking, so Grace finished her drink and stood. “Okay, I’d better head over to Jenny’s. Can you recommend a good bakery that’s not too expensive? It’s Jenny’s birthday in a couple of days. And Eve’s, too.”
“The one at the small market is all right. Next to the park.”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
She shrugged again.
“Have a good night, okay?”
Rayleen just grunted, and Grace headed out and down the block, grateful the bakery wasn’t very far.
Using the last of her spare cash, she picked out a girly-looking cake that already said Happy Birthday in purple frosting. Not Grace’s style, but it did match her hair.
She walked slowly toward Jenny’s place, hoping the walk would calm her nerves. And it did, despite the fact that every time she heard the engine sound of a big pickup she worried it was Cole’s truck. It never was. So Grace relaxed.
The sight of the pretty bakery bag in her hand made her happy. And the story Rayleen had told about Grandma Rose…that helped, too. She wasn’t as alone as she sometimes felt. And tonight she wouldn’t be alone at all. By the time she climbed the stairs to the condo and knocked, her nervousness had been left behind somewhere, lost on the streets of Jackson.
“Hey, girl!” Jenny shouted when she opened the door. She hugged Grace one-handed, the other hand occupied with holding a glass of red wine. “I’m half-drunk already. Eve drove, so she’s insisting I drink one of the bottles by myself. The other one’s for you.”
“I did not insist!” Eve called. “I said it was an option.”
Jenny snorted. “Option, shmoption. Time to get beautiful!”
Laughing, Grace let herself be pulled in. She held up the bag. “Happy birthday, ladies. I brought cake.”
“Oh, my God!” Jenny squealed. “Cake! I love you!”
Grace felt heat climbing up her cheeks and quickly changed the subject. “Okay, if we’re going to do hair color, we should do that first. Before makeup.”
“But not before lasagna,” Jenny insisted. “Or cake. Or wine!”
Eve groaned as she took a seat at the small kitchen table. “I should’ve taken the bus.”
“You can always spend the night. I only have a double bed, but after a bottle of wine, I bet you won’t mind cuddling.”
“No, I’m fine with my two-glass limit.”
“Oh, I’m just kidding. You can sleep on the couch.”
Eve laughed, her cheeks turning as pink as Grace’s had felt a moment before. “I’m honestly no good with alcohol. The last time I got drunk, I got sick on my stairs. If there’s anything worse than being hungover, it’s being hungover and having to clean up vomit.”
Grace gratefully accepted the very full glass Jenny offered. “I can’t imagine you drunk,” she said to Eve. “You’re so dignified.”
“I’m just quiet and boring. Dignified is a trick us boring people pull.”
Grace eyed her for a moment. “Are we coloring your hair?”
“Oh, God, no. I’d feel too conspicuous. People comment on that sort of thing. I hate it.”
“I’ll ask you again after the wine. I’d love to—”
“No,” she insisted. “Absolutely not.”
“You can do me any way you want,” Jenny said as she picked up a big plastic bag and began pulling out boxes of hair-coloring kits.
“Oh, my God.” Grace laughed. There was now an impressive row of boxes on the table. “How many do you have?”
