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“Abbie’s an elementary school art teacher,” I explain as we step inside.
“That’s what I was going to do if music didn’t take off! I always wanted to be an art teacher. They were the best part of school. You’re making a difference; you know that?”
Abbie basks in the glow of Priya’s attention. She wears a floral print wrap dress, and her graying hair is swooped up into a signature messy bun.
“You’re too kind! Now, who’s this handsome fellow?” Abbie shoots a glance at Vince.
“This is my boyfriend, Vince,” I say.
“Lovely to meet you,” Vince shakes her hand vigorously.
“Y’all can come on into the living room. We’re just getting started with appetizers. Vince, Lyndsey told me you’re sober. I am, too! I have some of these zero-proof gin cocktails that Allison bought for me, and they’re wonderful. Would you like to try one?”
“I’d love one,” Vince says, relaxing at my side.
“Lyndsey, Priya, do you want anything to drink? Lynds, I know your mom bought natural wine.”
“I’d love a glass of that,” Priya says.
“Same here,” I echo.
We take our seats in Abbie’s living room, settling onto the green velvet couch. The decor is eclectic, with paper chains hanging from the chandelier, a leftover from a “100 days of school project” from last year. The walls are full of paintings from local artists and Abbie’s former students.
“You have a lovely home,” Priya says.
“Thank you so much! Would any of you like a mini quiche or some fruit?” Abbie gestures to the spread of snacks dominatingthe coffee table: charcuterie, mini quiche, a fruit plate, and tiny puff pastries.
“I can’t believe we’re the first ones here,” Vince notes, grabbing a plate.
“Lyndsey’s always been the punctual one out of all of us,” Abbie says. She hands Vince a chilled can and then makes another trip to grab Priya and me our wine. I rarely drink, but I take an anxious gulp.
“Abbie, these quiches are delightful! Where on earth did you get them?” Priya asks.
“The frozen section of Whole Foods,” Abbie says sheepishly. She sits across from us, then darts up when she hears the doorbell. “That’s probably Allison!”
She’s correct. Allison looks great. She wears a hot pink silk dress and lime green heels.
“I baked a brie!” She exclaims, plopping it down on the coffee table next to the other appetizers.
“It only took you twenty-seven years to learn how to cook,” Abbie laments, sitting next to her.
“Hey, I still can’t cook,” Vince says.
Don’t sell yourself short, you’re really good at making that salmon bake.” I can feel the nervous energy radiating off of Vince.
“It’ll be fine,” I whisper.
“What’s that?” Abbie asks.
“Vince is nervous about Mark,” Allison explains.
“Oh, Mark’s fine. Cheryl’s the one you’ll have to watch out for. Lynds, I met her for the first time on Halloween, and all I’m saying is that I tried to go into it free of judgment. Your Dad’s getting back out there; that’s great. It’s a new relationship! They’re in that honeymoon phase.”
“But?” I prompted.
“But trying to have a conversation with Cheryl is like trying to talk to one of those cheesy motivational posters come to life.”
“Truly, whatever did Cheryl do?” Priya asks. “That’s all these two could talk about during the ride over here.”
