Megan laughed. “I’m sure you would have. But I never miss book club.”
She unpacked the cupcakes from the box and arranged them on a plate.
“What have we got tonight?” Molly asked.
“Dark chocolate cupcakes with vanilla buttercream frosting.”
Chelsea poured the wine. “Which goes perfectly with zinfandel.”
Emma, who was eight and a half months pregnant, laid her hand on her lower back. “I miss wine.”
“Your doc said you could have a glass, didn’t he?”
“Yes, but I think I’ll opt for tea.”
Megan looked around. “Where’s Des?”
“Opting out tonight,” Emma said. “She said she’ll see us all at the baby shower this weekend at the ranch, providing she doesn’t have the baby before then.”
Megan went over and grabbed one of the glasses of wine Chelsea had poured. “Who do you think will go first, Emma?”
Emma delicately lowered herself into one of the chairs. “I’m hoping me.”
Molly laughed. “I’m hoping it’s you as well. I have tomorrow on the office pool.”
Emma arched a brow. “There’s an office pool on my due date?”
“Honey, the entire town has pools for your and Des’s delivery dates,” Sam said. “With both of you due at the same time, how could we not?”
“Well, I have a couple of weeks left, so I don’t know what you were thinking, Molly.”
Molly shrugged. “That first babies sometimes come early. Though I have you two weeks late on another pool.”
Emma rubbed her belly. “My poor baby being gambled on.” She paused for a few seconds, then said, “Is it too late to get in on the action?”
Megan laughed. “I don’t know, Emma. I think you might have insider information.”
“Oh, please. I wish I knew when this little one was coming out. And hopefully it’s soon.”
While everyone played guessing games about Emma’s due date, Megan wandered over to Sam, who was making herself a cup of coffee. “How’s the new house coming along?”
“It’s hit-and-miss. We got the foundation poured before winter set in, and they’re working on plumbing, electrical, and getting the walls and the roof up. But you know they’re dancing around the weather, and early spring has been rainy, so we’re hoping that calms down somewhat so we can make some headway. In the meantime, we’re living at my house. The yard is big enough for Not My Dog, who’s perfectly happy as long as he’s with Reid and me.”
Megan smiled. “And of course he goes to work with Reid every day anyway.”
“This is true.”
“How’s Grammy Claire?”
Sam’s smile faltered. “About the same. She has her good days and bad days. Some days she recognizes me, some days she looks at me like she doesn’t know who I am.”
Megan squeezed her arm. “I’m sorry.”
Sam nodded. “We’re prepared for it. Physically she’s still doing well enough to stay at her home, thanks to Faith, Grammy Claire’s best friend, living there with her. I don’t know what we’d do without her help. And the nursing staff who come in for regular visits have been lifesavers.”
“It also helps that you and Reid are just across the street.”
“Yes. We stop by every day and check on her.”
“And maybe someday the two of you will have a honeymoon.”
“Oh, we don’t need that. It was enough that Grammy Claire was able to be at our wedding, and that she had full cognitive function at the time.”
Megan saw the tears welling up in her friend’s eyes, and knew how much it was hurting her to slowly lose her grandmother to Alzheimer’s. “But you two are still newlyweds, so anytime you need my help with anything, all you have to do is ask.”
Sam hugged her. “Thank you. I know I can count on you. But speaking of all things love, I haven’t seen you dating anyone lately. What’s up with that?”
“Oh, well, you know how it is. The bakery keeps me busy.”
Sam slid her a look. “And that excuse is getting old. How did things go with that date you had last week?”
“The one with the guy from the newspaper?”
“Yes, that one.”
Megan gave her a blank stare. “He was . . . nice.”
Sam wrinkled her nose. “Nice? That’s it?”
“Yes. That’s it.”
Sam sighed. “So, in other words, no spark.”
“What are we talking about sparking?” Chelsea asked. “Not that I’m eavesdropping, but . . . okay, I’m eavesdropping.”
“We’re talking about Megan’s date the other night.”
“Ohh, you had a date?” Chelsea asked, pulling up a spot next to Sam. “Spill the details.”
If there was one thing their hot redheaded friend loved, it was gossip. And Megan knew Chelsea had opinions, especially on men and dating. “Unfortunately, nothing to spill. Nice guy. Good job. Great manners over dinner. He was polite, made decent conversation and all, but I felt . . . nothing.”
Chelsea’s hopeful look disappeared. “Oh. That’s unfortunate. As someone who dated more than her share of men in the past—”
“Like the entire male population of Hope,” Sam said.
Chelsea shot Sam a look. “Hey. Not the entire population. Maybe half.”
Megan laughed.
“Anyway,” Chelsea said, “I can attest to the fact that sometimes the chemistry just isn’t there, despite how good a man looks on paper.”
Megan folded her arms. “Says the woman who landed the hottest bartender in Hope.”
Chelsea graced them all with a well-satisfied grin. “I did, didn’t I?”
“And she’s smug about it, too,” Sam said.
“I am, aren’t I?”
Megan shook her head. “No cupcakes for you.”
“Megan,” Chelsea said, looking shocked. “You wouldn’t do that.”
“A few more bad dates and I might just consider it.”
“But you wouldn’t deny Sam, who just married the hottest architect in town.”
Sam gave Megan an apologetic look and took a sip of her wine.