I laid a blue button-down shirt flat on top of the pile.
“That sounds wonderful, Thomas,” I said, wanting to believe it. “Maybe she is finally tired of the big restaurant dinners.”
“I do not buy it,” Thomas said, his brow furrowing. “Be careful while I am gone, Alexis. Do not let her talk you into organizing the whole thing.”
“It is just a family lunch,” I said, twisting my wedding ring. “I can handle a casual afternoon.”
Thomas reached out and touched my shoulder, but his phone began to buzz in his pocket again, its sharp vibration cutting our conversation short.
At four o’clock, the gravel in the local grocery store parking lot crunched under the tires of Eleanor’s silver sedan. She did not park in a space; instead, she idled near the cart return, the air conditioning in her car humming loudly.
I walked over to her open passenger window, the heat from the asphalt radiating through the soles of my sandals.
