Page 83 of My Husband Problem

The only thing I am going to protest is any change to the interior decor. If they try to paint over my wallpaper with the pattern that looks like cut-open avocados or rip out wood paneling, I’m going to yell.

“So, I guess we’ll just do some weeding and talk about native plants,” Nora says looking around. “Muriel and Patty will be here, and if we can get them going about something, they’ll kill most of the time anyway.”

Nora is not wrong that they can eat up time and attention without even trying. The twin sisters come to every single club, no matter what it is, and always start a fight with one another.

But fifteen minutes later, Patty and Muriel are nowhere to be found, and Jeffrey Mullins is the only other person who has joined us for gardening.

“What is going on?” Nora asks no one in particular. “There should be at least twelve people here. Sometimes we get almost twenty. Where is everyone?” She casts a worried eye at her wagon.

I know she’s not concerned about the potting soil, or gardening tools. It’s the snacks she brought. She’s got twenty cups of chocolate pudding layered with crumbled chocolate cookies and topped with gummy worms. They’re called Dirt Cups and are adorable for a gardening club meeting. But they’re not going to last out in the sun.

None of us can answer her about where everyone is, of course.

She pulls out her phone and sends a text. “I’m going to check in with Patty. No one is required to come, of course, but I just want to be sure nothing’s wrong.”

She gets a message back almost immediately.

“Oh.” She looks up at me. Now she looks like she’s fighting a smile.

“What?” I ask, not sure I want to know.

“Everyone’s at your house.”

“Muriel and Patty are at my house?” I frown. “Declan said Oscar was with Patty. But…they’re not helping with the landscaping or the windows and fence.”

The sisters are easily in their late seventies, if not older. They’re sassy and admirably spry for their age, but there’s no way they’re climbing around and digging.

Probably.

“Wait, are they?” I ask.

“No. They’re just watching,” Nora says.

“They’re watching the guys work?” I ask. Then I roll my eyes. “I guess I’m not surprised. It’s probably a…nice…view.”

Nora and Sutton both laugh and nod.

Patty lives across the street and down a house. She’ll be Miles’s neighbor once he moves into his new house. It wouldn’t surprise me if she’s sitting on her front porch with binoculars watching the handsome hockey players flex their muscles.

But wait, she said everyone isatmy house.

“What are they doing, sitting on the front walk?” I ask.

“Kind of.” Sutton is grinning as she holds up her phone.

My eyes wide, I take it from her. And start scrolling.

“Oh. My. God.”

The town’s website tells the story. And issues an invitation.

There are five posts, andmultiplephotos.

There’s a veritable lawn party going on at my house.

There are lawn chairs, people sitting and standing around, drinks in hand. There are three folding tables laden with food. I can practically hear the music that I’m sure is playing fromsomeone’s phone. Or hell, maybe someone brought out an old boom box.

There are easily forty people there. Maybe more.