Page 38 of Cursed By Fate

“Let’s meet at the ferry in fifteen minutes,” I said. “Don’t be late because I can’t hold the boat.” The service was timely except for weather delays; today was sunny and warm.

“Can we have dinner after?” Catherine asked.

The hopeful tinge to her voice was almost too much to bear. “We’ll see.”

“That means no,” Margie whispered.

Catherine looked like I’d crushed her favorite lipstick.

Margie gripped her mother’s arm. “Wait. What about Bookstabbers?”

Bookstabbers was their book club where they met at a coffee shop to discuss their most recent serial killer read.

“You should be back in plenty of time,” I said.

“But what if we’re not?” Margie asked.

“We’ll reschedule now,” Meemaw said. “Problem solved.”

“You don’t think it’ll look suspicious if five of us can’t make it?” Margie asked.

“Nausea and cramps,” Joan said smoothly. “Catherine accidentally used sour milk in her cake recipe.”

Catherine pouted. “Why do I have to be the scapegoat? Why can’t Margie have done it?”

“Because I would never bake a cake,” Margie said, indignant.

“Someone will have to placate Edith,” Joan interjected. “She’ll be upset if she thinks you baked a cake and didn’t offer any to her.”

“Even if it made you ill?” I queried. I didn’t know why I bothered to ask the question. My neighbor was absolutely the type of person who would manage to make the story about her, even when she wasn’t involved.

“Let me call Martin now and let him know about Bookstabbers. If I wait too long, I’ll forget.” Meemaw tapped her phone.

“You could just text him,” I said.

Ignoring me, Meemaw continued the call. On speakerphone.

“Meemaw, this is a pleasant surprise,” Martin’s voice crackled through the subpar speaker.

“Bad news, Martin. We need to postpone Bookstabbers tonight.”

“That’s a relief. I was going to have to cancel anyway. My sciatica is flaring up again.”

“I’ll let you know when we reschedule. Take care, Martin.” Meemaw hung up and set the phone facedown on the table. “Martin couldn’t make it tonight anyway. His sciatica is flaring up.”

“Yes, we heard,” I said drily. One of these days, the Neighbors would learn how to use their phones properly.

“See? This was meant to be,” Margie said, smiling at me.

I had a nagging feeling I was going to regret this momentary lapse in judgment.

I updated Vale on the plan en route.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked.

“Not even a tiny bit.”

“I’ll have Cowboy meet you at the ferry. We’ll rendezvous at Harriet’s.”