The Summerhouse (The Summerhouse 1)

Since neither of the other women wanted to be reminded of Ellie’s mega-success, they agreed readily. How could you relax with a woman who the First Lady had said was her favorite author?

Once they were outside, the tension didn’t relax, and as they wandered around, looking in the store windows, both Ellie and Madison grew silent.

It was Leslie who was the peacemaker, the one who smoothed over the situation. “I thought we were going to get drunk,” Leslie said.

Neither Madison nor Ellie answered her, but just gave little smiles, then turned back to the windows. They both seemed to be fascinated with a shop that carried wooden birds.

“Ellie, you’re the celebrity, so you pay for the booze,” Leslie said, and that made Ellie smile.

“Maybe she could pay for it with an autograph,” Madison said, and there was a hint of something not very nice under her voice.

“Only if it’s on a credit card slip,” Ellie shot back, then looked at Madison with some defiance.

“If you two get into a cat fight, who do you think I should bet on?” Leslie asked, and that relieved the tension in the air.

“I’m hungry,” Ellie said. “That woman made me so nervous I couldn’t eat.”

Smiling, Leslie pointed to a little grocery store that was still open and a liquor store across the street. Thirty minutes later, the three women, their arms laden with food and a bag of bottles, were laughing as they made their way back to the little gingerbread house.

Once inside the house, their good mood returned. Outside the house, they were aware that they didn’t know each other, that they’d led very different lives that had ended up in different ways. But inside the house they were once again those three girls—Ira’s Girls, they’d reminded themselves—and they were equal. Their futures had yet to be made.

Ellie unpacked a couple of plastic containers of dip and three bags of chips while Leslie rummaged in the kitchen for a corkscrew. Madison threw pillows on the floor in front of the couch, pulled out a couple of packs of cigarettes, then plopped down on the pillows.

Ellie took one look at the cigarettes and opened a window near Madison. Leslie returned from the kitchen with glasses and an opened bottle of white wine.

“Okay, who’s first?” Leslie asked as she, too, tossed pillows on the floor then sat on them. Ellie stretched out on the couch behind Madison.

“Who’s first with what?” Ellie asked.

Leslie’s eyes twinkled. “As though you aren’t dying to hear all about everything.”

Ellie smiled and scooped up a big glob of a cheesy dip. “What happened to your dancing?”

Before Leslie could reply, Madison looked through a cloud of smoke and said, “Why don’t we get down to it and talk about men?”

“Nothing to tell on my part,” Ellie said as she ate more dip.

“Me neither,” Leslie said. “I married Alan and that’s it. I’ve been absolutely faithful to him all these years.”

That announcement seemed to bring the conversation to a halt.

Ellie turned onto her back and looked up at the ceiling. “Did you ever think about the one who got away? About the man you could have hooked up with and didn’t?”

When neither woman spoke, Ellie turned onto her side and looked at them. Both Leslie and Madison were studiously looking at their hands and not meeting each other’s eyes.

“Am I good or what?” Ellie said, smiling as she picked up her glass. “I’ve already found a story and I’ve only been here a matter of hours. So who’s first?”

“How about you going first?” Madison said, narrowing her eyes at Ellie.

Ellie opened her mouth to speak, then seemed to think better of it, so she turned to Leslie. “What about you? Do you have lots of regrets?”

Leslie smiled complacently. “Not really. I’m happy with my life. Sure, my husband and kids pay no attention to me and I sometimes wonder if they’d step over my body if I fell dead in the kitchen, but—” She stopped to laugh at the looks of horror the other two were giving her. “Okay, so I’m a doormat. I admit it, but I really do love them.”

“There isn’t anything you’d like to change?” Ellie asked, obviously not believing her.

“No, not change . . .” Leslie said.