Clobbered by Camembert by Avery Aames Page A

harder. Freckles, who had recently given birth to a second daughter, moaned as well.
    “Psst.” Despite the odd position, Meredith turned her head sideways. Her flexibility had something to do with regular exercise, I was pretty sure—something I needed to do more of. “Ipo will have to work things out for himself regarding the new competition with Clydesdale Enterprises, I’m afraid.”
    “She’s right,” Freckles chimed in.
    Before entering the classroom, I had told my friends about my chat with Lois.
    “Does Ipo have any recourse?” Jacky asked.
    “There’s nothing in the town’s bylaws that states someone can’t have a competing business,” Delilah said. She would know. A number of competitors had tried to lure customers away from the Country Kitchen.
    “Ladies, quiet,” the yoga instructor said. “Silence is good for the soul.”
    “But silence won’t solve the world’s problems,” I whispered.
    Freckles tittered. “You’re bad.”
    Delilah laughed, too. So did Meredith. The instructor gave us the evil eye.
    While still attempting to achieve the perfect plow pose, Jacky said, “Meredith, when’s the wedding?”
    “We’re thinking autumn. The college will be up and running by then.” Meredith’s enthusiasm was contagious.
    “I love fall weddings,” Freckles gushed.
    Meredith had hired Freckles and her staff at Sew Inspired Quilt Shoppe to sew all the dresses for the wedding, mine included. But when was the wedding going to be? Autumn was such a nebulous time frame. Did Meredith mean September, October, or November? A girl needed to plan ahead. I didn’t want to lose five pounds in August for nothing.
    “Delilah, how are things going with Luigi?” Meredith asked, switching subjects deftly. Luigi Bozzuto was the owner of Providence’s only four-star restaurant, La Bella Ristorante.
    “Great. He’s helping me divine some new grilled cheese sandwich recipes.” She made a humming sound as she often did when talking about food. “How does Vella Dry Jack, bacon, red onions, and syrup sound?”
    “Decadent,” Meredith said.
    “Utterly.” Delilah grinned. “Luigi said I should call it the Godfather , after … Charlotte, you tell them.”
    I said, “Ig Vella was considered the godfather of American artisan cheese—a term he hated, by the way. His father founded Rogue Creamery with the help of J. L. Kraft.”
    “Wow,” Meredith said.
    “Luigi is such a card.” Delilah laughed. She hoped to host a grilled cheese contest in Providence someday. In an effort to create the most unique sandwiches imaginable, Delilah had sought Luigi’s advice. Within a week, Luigi and she had started dating. Though Luigi was at least twenty years older than Delilah, he could keep up with her intense pace and he loved to dance. The level of dance ability didn’t matter to Delilah. Good, bad, or indifferent at the skill, a man’s job was to get her out on the dance floor.
    “How are things with Urso?” Delilah asked Jacky, who had achieved the plow pose—just barely.
    “Unfurl, ladies, and roll onto your stomachs,” the instructor advised. “Arch your back in the cobra pose.”
    As we all obeyed the command, Delilah said, “Yoo-hoo, Jacky … Umberto Urso … hello. I asked you a question.”
    Jacky drew in a deep breath but kept mute. The day after she found out she was pregnant by insemination, she started dating Providence’s chief of police, who was one of my best friends. Had they broken up? I couldn’t remember having seen them strolling together or holding hands in quite a while. I would hate it if they split up. Urso had seemed so happy. Jacky, too.
    “Cat-cow,” the instructor said.
    We all drew to our knees, inhaled, and rolled our backs toward the ceiling.
    “Fine, don’t talk about Urso,” Delilah said. “Charlotte, where’s Rebecca? Why hasn’t she joined us in this no-talking zone?”
    “She’s consoling Ipo,” I answered.
    “That’s not what I hear,” Freckles