Hosting a party was a first for Sam. Of course, never having a BFF before Jasmyn arrived on the scene, there had been no reason on earth for her to throw a party.
From the couch in Sam’s living room, Liv raised her teacup. “Kudos, Samantha, dear. The evening was a success.”
Seated on the floor, Sam turned sideways as a goofy grin inched its way across her face. She glanced up to see the woman wink. Sam chuckled. “Thanks.”
If it weren’t for the fact that the occasion was Jasmyn’s leaving, Sam might have laughed out loud like a delirious monkey. She had opened her cottage to the entire group of Casa Detainees, tipped the pizza delivery kid thirty percent, spoke civilly to Beau, and honestly enjoyed herself.
The Westminster chimes from her secondhand clock struck ten. The men had left some time ago, but all the Casa females lingered. Except for Coco in her wheelchair, they sat on her secondhand leather couch, her secondhand striped wingback chair, the rocker recently returned by Jasmyn, and on the dark green broadloom rug.
If someone had told Sam a few weeks ago that these women would be chatting inside her cottage, she would have rolled her eyes and said In your dreams. But there they all sat…
Liv had her legs tucked under her flowing brown skirt. Her orange cardigan with pockets appeared baggier than usual because of recent weight loss.
Piper as always looked ready for the cover girl shot, even sans makeup. With her looks and success, she could have been consumed with self, but instead she was always likable and down-to-earth. Sam had noticed how once in a while—and Chad had confirmed—a blankness washed over her face. It was the only hint of sadness she ever exhibited over the death of her fiancé.
Inez rocked in the chair, her hair still thick and black, wearing a red shawl over a white blouse and a bright floral skirt, the ever-present happy expression on her face. She was the epitome of contentment.
Coco slept in her wheelchair, her head upright, her posture still a dancer’s. Her blond bob-style wig was a bit askew, her eyelashes prominent as butterfly wings. Sam often zeroed in on her to make sure she was still breathing.
Déja, Noah’s fourteen-year-old daughter, lounged on the rug. Her pout had definitely lessened since her arrival, especially after laughing with Piper. Even her dyed black spiked hair, the black jacket, black shirt, black pants, and a dog collar necklace appeared less ominous. Lamplight reflected off her silver nose ring, softening the whole effect.
Riley sat on the couch with Tasha curled up asleep between her and Liv, and she gently stroked her daughter’s hair. Her story was another tragedy, and its impact showed. She was an anxious, needy sort. Her wispy, white-blond hair and porcelain skin added to her appearance of vulnerability. Sam always wondered why she didn’t move back East to be with family.
Sam’s eyes stung. She had never given Riley the benefit of the doubt before. Would Sam have moved back home to be with family if she had a special needs child and the father had left them? Probably not.
Sam blinked and sniffed discreetly.
And Jasmyn. On the floor, leaning against the couch near Liv, she seemed calmer than yesterday when they had cried. Later that afternoon they had gone for a run, but it hadn’t—as she put it—cured her of the weepies. She’d spent the evening alone in her cottage, and Sam had not seen her on Sunday until she came over for the party. Evidently she had gotten through the crying period. Or, more likely, she held it all in as she had been doing that first day Sam met her.
Sam had hoped they would get a chance to talk. She wanted to tell her about the phone call with her mother and what she had learned about her grandmother, things too personal to bring up with her neighbors, who seemed in no hurry to leave.
It was odd how the women seemed so comfortable, so at home in her place. Chad, Keagan, Noah, Louis, and Beau had stopped by for pizza and a quick goodbye to Jasmyn. Chad had been his dramatic self, but that was Chad, waxing eloquent about his broken heart over her departure.
The ladies were a different story.
Sam said to no one in particular, “Is it my imagination, or did the dynamics change after the guys left?”
Piper snorted. “You think?”
The giggles started with Riley, setting off a ripple effect that went round the circle.
Coco’s eyes opened and she smiled, her small, aged face suddenly animated. “But of course the dynamics changed. Men simply can’t engage as we do. Between us girls, you know, we get down to business. We address what life is truly all about.”
The giggles erupted into bursts of laughter. Tears streamed down Inez’s cheeks. Liv hooted. Jasmyn doubled over on the floor. Sam was surprised that the racket did not wake up Tasha.
Even Déja laughed long and hard. “ ‘What life is truly all about.’ Absolutely. I am so happy that I now know, thanks to Piper, the correct way to apply nail polish and that ‘burnt sienna’ is this fall’s to-die-for color.”
Inez wiggled her fingers, the reddish-brown polish still drying.
Piper lifted her chin and struck a pose. “Don’t forget dusky ocher is good too. And I’m serious. It will match your, ahem, style.”
Déja reached over to give her a high five.
Riley said, “But we did talk serious things too, like about Tasha’s new class and how hard it is for her.”
Liv said, “How we’ll all love on her extra and hope that will help ease her adjustments.”
Inez added, “And we talk how Louis is so grumpy with his walker.”
Sam said, “And we promised to encourage him to use it in the courtyard.”
Jasmyn said, “And, Sam, you told us about your project in the desert.”
Sam nodded. She had actually described her project, even the new ideas she had offered.
There had been other topics, deep-down, heart-tugging sorts of concerns that flowed between them.
The hardest was Jasmyn’s departure and her future plans, of which she had none. All she knew was that she had to go home to figure them out and come visit again as soon as possible.
The clock chimed its ten-thirty piece before they all meandered out to the courtyard to hug Jasmyn goodbye. Tears mixed with soft laughter. The hugs spread from one to another. Even Tasha woke up enough to join in. As usual she hugged everyone, including Sam, to whom she whispered, “Night, Sammi.”
There was not an opportunity for Sam to tell Jasmyn about her earlier phone call. Now, as she watched the women drift toward their own cottages, that conversation did not seem to matter much at all anymore.
What seemed to matter— No, not seemed. What in fact did matter was everything that had happened that evening in her cottage between the girls.