Especially regarding the wine. "And I'm just saying, there are some things mothers don't

need to know. Our sex life being at the top of the list."

Craig actually laughed and Jill realized it was the most conversation they'd had in months.

And she admitted it was much better than the silence they'd been living with.

"You know, the Fourth is coming up," he said as he placed the glass of wine within her

reach.

"Yeah. And?"

"Well, we usually have a get-together here, with the group," he said.

"You mean your softball buddies?"

"And their wives. You act like I only invite my friends."

"They are your friends, Craig. But I get along with most of the wives, yes."

"Well, do you want to do it this year?"

Jill put the spoon down and turned, watching him. Was he serious?

"You want to have a party? Here? Wouldn't that be a little awkward?"

"Yeah. You're probably right. I just thought . . . well, I thought we could do something

normal, you know. Like we used to."

Jill turned back to the stove, hating the blanket of guilt that was slowly, slowly settling

over her. Yes, they always had a party on the Fourth of July. Her birthday was the fifth so

it was a double celebration. Arlene baked a cake and they would sing "Happy Birthday" to

her. Then at dusk, pile into cars to go watch the fireworks out at the lake.

The lake. Their lake. She wondered if Carrie and her family went out there too.

"So what do you say?"

She sighed. "Okay, fine. If that's what you want to do."

"Thanks, babe."

She turned back around. "Craig, this doesn't change anything."

He nodded. "Oh, I know. I just think it would be good for us, for Angie, to do something

familiar. She's really having a hard time, Jill."

"So I hear. She doesn't exactly speak to me," she said as she drained the pasta. "Take the

bread out of the oven, would you?"

"You ready for me to call Angie home?"

"Yes, everything's ready."

And it was. Spaghetti and meatballs. Garlic bread with an obscene amount of cheese melted

on top. And a healthy salad that Craig and Angie would no doubt lather in dressing. She

sighed again. How dysfunctional was this evening? She'd come home pissed off, still

steaming about Arlene's visit, and Craig had been attempting to cook dinner. Again, guilt

hit, so she took over for him, browning the meatballs before he could ruin them and finding

some homemade spaghetti sauce in the freezer instead of the jar he had by the stove. And

here they were, about to sit down to a family meal together. She and her husband—who

s m o o r d e b e t a r a p e s n i g n i v i l e r e w — n e t n a h t e r o m d i a s y l e r a b d a h o h w , r e t h g u a d r e h d n a.

words to her in the last few weeks

And now you've agreed to a birthday party.

She filled her wineglass again, hardly noticing the slamming of the door as Angie walked

past.

CHAPTER THIRTY

A tiny round cake, laden with what Jill assumed were forty candles—all burning hotly—

greeted her when she got to the cottage. She laughed then pulled Carrie into a quick hug.

"How did you know?"

"I snuck a peek at your driver's license. I know it's only the third but I wanted to do it

before the holiday."

"How sweet of you," she said with a kiss. "But I'm not sure I'm supposed to be enjoying

forty quite this much."

"Nonsense. Forty is a great year."

"I happen to agree with you." Jill bent down, blowing out all forty candles at once. She

clapped excitedly then hugged Carrie again. "I love you."

She felt Carrie's arm pull her tighter, heard the quiet sigh Carrie uttered when their

bodies pressed together.

"I love you too. Happy birthday."

The quiet, gentle kisses turned to more as their bodies moved sensually against each other.

After all this time, Jill was still surprised how her body reacted to Carrie's touch.

"I have champagne," Carrie murmured into her ear.

"Later," Jill whispered, turning her head to capture Carrie's mouth. "Make love to me

first," she breathed against her lips. She felt Carrie tremble at her request and her eyes

slid closed when Carrie's tongue wrapped around her own.

No more words were spoken as Carrie led her into the bedroom, carefully removing her

clothes. Jill lost patience as she stepped out of her skirt then reached for Carrie's shorts,

sliding them down Carrie's hips in one motion.

"In a hurry?" Carrie teased.

"As a matter of fact, yes."

Jill laid down on the bed, pulling Carrie with her, her thighs spreading to allow Carrie to

settle between them. But as soon as Carrie's bare skin touched her own, Jill rolled them

over, pinning Carrie beneath her.

"I changed my mind," she whispered before her mouth closed over Carrie's breast.

"I won't complain," Carrie murmured, and Jill smiled as she moved lower, wetting a path

across Carrie's stomach before cupping her hips and pulling her to her waiting mouth.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

As soon as Jill heard Craig whistling in the kitchen as he piled ground beef into the bowl,

she knew the party was a mistake. It would serve no purpose other than to give him false

hope that their marriage was salvageable. And it wasn't. But when she pushed open the

swinging door to the kitchen and found him there, a baseball cap turned backward on his

head, packages of wieners mingled with the ground beef on the counter, she didn't have

the heart to say anything. She decided she could play along for a day.

"You're starting early," she said as she reached for the coffee pot.

"Well, I didn't want you to have to mess with all this." He grinned. "Of course, if you could

do your special seasonings thing with the burgers, that'd be great."

She touched his arm. "I tell you what, why don't you go set up the volleyball net and I'll

tend to this."

"You don't mind?"

She smiled. "I believe this has always been my job."

"Great. Because I've still got to run to the store and get cokes and stuff."

"Would you like me to make a pitcher of tea?"

"Oh, don't go to any trouble. You know all the guys will bring beer."

"I remember. But I think your mother prefers iced tea."

Craig stopped, his eyebrows raised. "You're worried about my mother? Are you okay?"

Jill laughed. "I just don't want her to have anything to complain about."

"She'll complain that your spicy burgers are too spicy, as always," he said before closing

the door.

"Yes, as always," she muttered to herself as she assembled the seasonings. And as much as

Craig was making this little party out to be no big deal, she was actually terrified of it.

There would be questions, she had no doubt. Her absence at the softball games this

summer surely raised some eyebrows. And if not that, she doubted seriously that Arlene

had been able to keep their marriage problems to herself.

But questions... she wasn't ready to answer any. Would she just pretend everything was

fine between her and Craig, just to avoid questions? She shook her head. That would only

confuse Craig, Angie... and her in-laws. And that was the last thing she wanted to do.

"I don't want to go to the party."

Jill stared at her daughter, both of them standing with hands on their hips. She cocked

her head, her frown as pronounced as Angie's. "You don't have a choice."

Angie stomped one foot, then crossed her arms at her waist.

"I should have a choice. I'm not a child! And anyway, I've been invited to Shelly's."

"Look, I don't want to go to this party any more than you do. But he's making me. So if I've

got to go, you've got to go."

Angie stared at her. "Are we going to the lake for fireworks?"

"I suppose so. We always do."

Angie shifted her feet then finally uncrossed her arms. "Can I invite Shelly over here?"

Jill smiled. "Of course. You can invite whomever you like."

They stared at each other for a moment before Angie spoke. "Okay. Well, I might hang

around then."

"Good. I'd hate to think you were going to run away from home on the Fourth of July."

Angie smiled. "Well, it is your birthday."

Jill sighed. "Yeah. I'm forty."

"Good God! Forty? Man, you're old," she said as she fled from the room.

Jill watched the swinging of the kitchen door, a smile on her face. "My daughter is teasing

with me," she murmured. "Whatever in the world is wrong with her?"

"Who are you talking to?"

Jill turned, finding Craig in the doorway, his cap still turned backward. Her eyes widened.

"Oh my God. You shaved your moustache."

He laughed. "You'd make a terrible detective. It's been gone all week."

"But you've had it forever. You had it when we met. Why in the world would you shave it?"

He rubbed his upper lip with his fingers, smiling. "I figured I needed a change."

"Well, not that my opinion holds a lot of weight anymore but please grow it back. You look

naked without it."

He grinned. "How would you know? You haven't seen me naked in months."