Page 32 of Two Couples

“I’m making spaghetti and garlic bread for dinner. We want to invite you and Jordan to join us.”

“I—”

“We’ll open a bottle or two of wine. What kind do you like?”

As I waited for Linda’s response, Jordan drifted up behind her. “Wine? For what?”

“I was telling your mom, we’d love to have you both join us for a spaghetti dinner.”

Jordan shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

I didn’t get the sense she had plans. Wouldn’t she have said so? And her answer sounded broader than simply declining tonight’s invite. There was a finality to it.

“Jordan’s right. I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Linda closed the door.

I stared at the glossy, bright turquoise door. It was strange they didn’t want to eat dinner with us for no specific reason. Had they already judged us and found us untrustworthy? Suspect?

TWENTY-FOUR

SAMANTHA

As I was leaving the grocery store carrying two canvas bags filled with food for our win-the-neighbors-over dinner, Emily messaged me.

They said no.

I put the bags in the back of Emily’s car, and leaned against the side, texting back.

Why?

No reason. Jordan seemed almost hostile about it.

Strange. Well, lots of leftovers.

Emily sent a spaghetti emoji followed by four wineglass emojis.

I drove home without thinking about Jordan’s hostility. Instead, I continued to brood about the two new notes that I hadn’t mentioned to Patrick or our friends. I should tell them, but it didn’t seem worth it. Patrick would only have one response and another argument would erupt between him and Keith. Emily would take Keith’s side and the cracks in our friendship would grow wider. For now, I would keep my increasing fear to myself.

As I pulled into the driveway, I saw Jordan through the trees. She was sitting on a chair in a patch of sun at the edge of their small vegetable garden, enclosed in chicken-wire. Leaving the groceries in the car, I got out and crossed over to their property.

I lifted my sunglasses and gave her a warm smile. “Hi.”

“Hello,” Jordan said.

“Are you sure I can’t change your mind about dinner tonight? We’d love to have you.”

She shook her head. The ever-present notebook was open on her lap. The two pages were filled with tiny, neat cursive. I was good at reading upside down—when you deal with contracts, you develop that skill. But her script was so small, I couldn’t make out a single word.

“Emily’s spaghetti is amazing. You’ve never tasted anything like it. And I bought two nice bottles of Zinfandel. Do you like Zin?”

“It’s fine.”

“I stopped at that little bakery and bought chocolate chip cookies for dessert. They gave me a taste and they’re incredible.”

She closed her notebook. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t owe you an explanation.”