picnic, biatch, ” Georgia griped, holding up her middle finger.
“Sorry, I got held up by my nap and channel surfing.” Lucy grinned, then took a sip of her coffee. She’d come over an hour earlier bearing a box of guilt muffins, banana nut, Georgia’s favorite, and a contrite smile. They were now sitting on the beige love seat in Georgia’s sitting room enjoying those muffins.
“I had to listen to Gladys Leonard go on and on about the genius of Crisco. Yeah, not just for cooking.…I won’t tell you what the stash in her bathroom is for, but use your imagination.”
“Ew! TMI much? I swear, some of those old biddies at church have no freaking filter…But really, I’m sorry I didn’t show. I know you hate those things.”
Georgia nodded, thoughtfully chewing the small bite she’d put in her mouth.
“Well, at least Nate was there to keep you company. That is, if none of his buddies were there.” Lucy loved Nate, but knew how he was. Just like Georgia knew all the good and bad about Lucy’s husband, Brett, who she could always count on in the bedroom, but not in any other rooms in the house.
“They were, so he spent most of the day by the smoker. Probably talking about hunting and the NFL draft.” Lucy made a gagging face and brushed the crumbs off her yoga pants.
“Oh, well, I survived and the girls had a blast, so no big,” Georgia admitted. “These muffins are amazing, by the way. If you’d just shown up with those shitty donuts from the gas station, I would still be pissed.” They knocked into each other’s shoulders and laughed.
“I knew I had to butter you up, so I drove into Clive and picked these up. They have this amazing new bakery on Fifth and Main.”
“Wow, you drove twenty minutes just to get me muffins? Your ass kissing knows no bounds.”
“I know, right?”
“You know you didn’t need to bring me anything. I can never stay mad at you.”
“Oh, yeah? What about that time I super glued your underwear drawer shut? Remember you had to go commando for two days until your dad got back into town.”
Georgia laughed. “God, he was so pissed. He had to pry the front panel off with a crow bar.”
“Or what about the time I froze your—”
“Okay, okay. There are a million ‘what about the times’ you could bring up. But I never stay mad at you—for long.”
Georgia pulled Lucy’s small frame into her side. She could smell the lotion Lucy had worn for as long as she could remember. It instantly comforted her. If Georgia’s true North had a smell, it would be that soft vanilla scent.
They continued to chat shoulder to shoulder until it was time to pick up their little ones from Mother’s Day Out. Lucy’s son, Wyatt, was six months younger than Bonnie. They always joked about who would be the hotter mom when their kids married each other. Lucy said tan skin ages slower, so she would win hands down since Georgia’s “pasty white face will crack like a pie crust.” Georgia always said she would look statuesque and lean no matter her age, while Lucy’s “short veiny legs will make her look like a Hispanic hobbit in drag.”
They walked down the drive together, hugging one last time.
“Hey, my one o’clock cancelled tomorrow. Come in, your ends look like shit,” Lucy teased, pulling a piece of Georgia’s hair.
“Gee, thanks, bestie.”
“My pleasure. I’ll see you tonight, right?” Lucy asked.
“Why not? There are two things you can always count on, me pretending to be social, and me being the hot one.”
Lucy laughed and stuck out her tongue. She was about to shut the door of her car when Georgia called out. “Hey, does that bakery sell cupcakes? I thought I might pick some up for Amelia’s birthday.”
“What, you’re not gonna make her cake this year?”
“Ha ha, very funny, hooker.”
Georgia had made a three-tiered cake, covered in pale green fondant the year before. It was supposed to look like a stack of
“Sorry, I got held up by my nap and channel surfing.” Lucy grinned, then took a sip of her coffee. She’d come over an hour earlier bearing a box of guilt muffins, banana nut, Georgia’s favorite, and a contrite smile. They were now sitting on the beige love seat in Georgia’s sitting room enjoying those muffins.
“I had to listen to Gladys Leonard go on and on about the genius of Crisco. Yeah, not just for cooking.…I won’t tell you what the stash in her bathroom is for, but use your imagination.”
“Ew! TMI much? I swear, some of those old biddies at church have no freaking filter…But really, I’m sorry I didn’t show. I know you hate those things.”
Georgia nodded, thoughtfully chewing the small bite she’d put in her mouth.
“Well, at least Nate was there to keep you company. That is, if none of his buddies were there.” Lucy loved Nate, but knew how he was. Just like Georgia knew all the good and bad about Lucy’s husband, Brett, who she could always count on in the bedroom, but not in any other rooms in the house.
“They were, so he spent most of the day by the smoker. Probably talking about hunting and the NFL draft.” Lucy made a gagging face and brushed the crumbs off her yoga pants.
“Oh, well, I survived and the girls had a blast, so no big,” Georgia admitted. “These muffins are amazing, by the way. If you’d just shown up with those shitty donuts from the gas station, I would still be pissed.” They knocked into each other’s shoulders and laughed.
“I knew I had to butter you up, so I drove into Clive and picked these up. They have this amazing new bakery on Fifth and Main.”
“Wow, you drove twenty minutes just to get me muffins? Your ass kissing knows no bounds.”
“I know, right?”
“You know you didn’t need to bring me anything. I can never stay mad at you.”
“Oh, yeah? What about that time I super glued your underwear drawer shut? Remember you had to go commando for two days until your dad got back into town.”
Georgia laughed. “God, he was so pissed. He had to pry the front panel off with a crow bar.”
“Or what about the time I froze your—”
“Okay, okay. There are a million ‘what about the times’ you could bring up. But I never stay mad at you—for long.”
Georgia pulled Lucy’s small frame into her side. She could smell the lotion Lucy had worn for as long as she could remember. It instantly comforted her. If Georgia’s true North had a smell, it would be that soft vanilla scent.
They continued to chat shoulder to shoulder until it was time to pick up their little ones from Mother’s Day Out. Lucy’s son, Wyatt, was six months younger than Bonnie. They always joked about who would be the hotter mom when their kids married each other. Lucy said tan skin ages slower, so she would win hands down since Georgia’s “pasty white face will crack like a pie crust.” Georgia always said she would look statuesque and lean no matter her age, while Lucy’s “short veiny legs will make her look like a Hispanic hobbit in drag.”
They walked down the drive together, hugging one last time.
“Hey, my one o’clock cancelled tomorrow. Come in, your ends look like shit,” Lucy teased, pulling a piece of Georgia’s hair.
“Gee, thanks, bestie.”
“My pleasure. I’ll see you tonight, right?” Lucy asked.
“Why not? There are two things you can always count on, me pretending to be social, and me being the hot one.”
Lucy laughed and stuck out her tongue. She was about to shut the door of her car when Georgia called out. “Hey, does that bakery sell cupcakes? I thought I might pick some up for Amelia’s birthday.”
“What, you’re not gonna make her cake this year?”
“Ha ha, very funny, hooker.”
Georgia had made a three-tiered cake, covered in pale green fondant the year before. It was supposed to look like a stack of
Similar Books
