Holly turned her head to look out the window. "I'd just as soon not talk about it, if y'all don't mind."

  Maggie and Grace shared a brief look of concern, then Grace said, "Whatever you want, honey. We're ready to listen if you change your mind."

  Holly smiled her thanks, nodded, then sat quietly throughout the first half of the drive. Maggie and Grace discussed the anniversary plans, then their children. Maggie told a particularly amusing story involving her sons and a fund-raising car wash that turned into a mud fight and fines from the city.

  Then, out of the blue, Holly spoke up. "Do you remember being thirteen?"

  Grace frowned in concentration. "What's that, sixth grade?"

  "Seventh. It's the grade I teach. My students, the girl students, are constantly involved in friendship wars. I spend almost as much time dealing with the fallout of their battles as I do teaching math."

  "Seventh grade." Maggie shuddered. "That's the year Lisa Lies-a-Lot Lehrman told Cheryl Norris that I'd kissed her boyfriend behind the school trash Dumpster so that Cheryl would run against me for secretary of the choir. Cheryl Norris never lost an election in her life—she's mayor of Phoenix now, I believe. Anyway, Cheryl won and I got ousted from the choir clique. It was the biggest social disaster of my life."

  Grace shook her head. "How cruel of that girl to lie about you that way."

  "You mean about the kiss?" Maggie paused long enough to honk her horn at the pickup that cut it too close when changing lanes. "Oh, that wasn't a lie. Lisa caught me red-lipped, so to speak. The problem was that earlier that day I saw her lyin' behind the bleachers letting Bill Watson feel her up. It was the second time I'd stumbled across that little scene, and I happened to mention the fact to a girl or two or three and... well... the nickname stuck." Maggie shrugged and added, "Thirteen is an ugly age for a girl."

  Grace observed, "They haven't yet learned that female friendships will be the mainstays of their lives."

  Holly tightened her seat belt. "I see it every year. Notes passed from one girl to another, secretly but at the same time obvious so that the outcast is sure to see it. Then the darting glances toward the poor girl, gasps and horror-filled giggles. The day before she had been liked, valued. Now she's the focus of their criticism and the butt of their jokes. Life changes in the blink of an eye."

  Grace thought back to her daughter's junior high days. "It seemed like it was always worse in the spring right before school let out for the summer."

  "Sexual stirrings," declared Maggie, her gaze flicking to the rearview mirror.

  "That's probably part of it," Grace agreed. "Also, I think the herd mentality is strongest in girls at adolescence. What's the term they use? I can't remember. Chemo brain is acting up again. Something stress?"

  "Peer pressure."

  "That's it. They'll go along with behaviors they know aren't right in order to fit in with the group. That's what I saw with my daughter, anyway. Most girls that age need a bit more maturity before they are strong enough to stand against the crowd."

  "I hurt for them," Holly said softly. "They're so raw with emotion. So riddled with contradiction. They need to be liked for themselves, but at the same time, they need to please. They long for attachment, but they desperately need to protect themselves from loss."

  Maggie took her attention off the road long enough to shoot Grace a pointed look. "That's a curious thing to say. Why would they need to protect themselves from loss?"

  "Friendships end," Holly said with a shrug. She then returned her attention to the scene outside her window, the wildflower-studded fields of north-central Texas.

  The drive continued without further conversation. Maggie whistled softly beneath her breath while Grace tried to think of something to say to draw Holly out. The air of sadness hanging around her young friend was palpable, and it weighed on Grace's own state of mind. She closed her eyes, made use of the headrest. Exhaustion grabbed hold of her and squeezed.

  Holly's softly spoken question drifted on the air like dandelion seeds. "Are we doomed to be thirteen all our lives?"

  * * *

  Maggie watched Grace lick icing from her fingers as she discussed possible cake toppers with Aunt Sadie. The peach cake had been a hit, just as she'd figured. Even sad-eyed Holly had swooned with delight when the flavor of that first rich, sinful bite exploded on her tongue.

  Maggie felt like she'd hit a home run with the suggestion to visit the farm. Grace and Aunt Sadie were of an age with numerous similar interests. They'd bonded right away, and Maggie thought Grace looked a little perkier than she had earlier in the morning. A dose of Mike's warmhearted, gregarious aunt seemed to cure Holly of what ailed her, too. The retired teacher wasn't shy about expressing her opinions, and she and Holly had quite a debate about state-mandated standardized assessment testing. As for herself, Maggie needed nothing more than Aunt Sadie's comforting hug to make the drive worthwhile.

  Even if she couldn't get away from memories of Mike in every room of the farmhouse.

  Having decimated a second piece of cake and determined to stop the sinning, Maggie rose from her chair at the kitchen table and carried her plate to the sink. As she rinsed her dish, she glanced out the window and spied Holly seated on the back porch steps. She cuddled a red dachshund puppy in her lap, her fingers scratching the dog behind his ears. The tears on Holly's cheeks glistened in the sunlight.

  Maggie's stomach sank. "She's crying."

  Grace looked up from the photo album in her lap. "Holly?"

  "Yes. Wasn't much of a walk. She hasn't been gone ten minutes." She turned off the faucet, then dried her hands on a tea towel. "I think I'll go talk to her. Leaving her alone doesn't appear to be helping anything. Something happened with Justin, I'll bet you money on it."

  "I think you're right."

  The screen door squeaked as Maggie opened it, then banged shut behind her. "Looks like you found a friend."

  Holly lifted the dog and nuzzled his long floppy ears. "Actually, I lost one, Maggie. I lost my very best friend. And it happened when I wasn't looking."

  Wood planks creaked as Maggie took a seat on the stoop. She stroked Holly's hair, tucking a stray strand back behind her ear. "Tell me about it, sugar."

  "What are Grace and Sadie doing?"

  "Poring over photo albums and scrapbooks. Sadie was showing her pictures of the cakes she's decorated, when they discovered they attended the same high school in Fort Worth. Sadie's always been a chronicler. They could be busy for hours. We have time. What happened with Justin that has you dragging your chin below your knees?"

  Holly explained to Maggie about being named Teacher of the Year, how she'd wanted to share the news with her best friend, and whom she'd found at his house when she tried. "I was so worried about losing the lover, I never even thought about losing the friend. Somehow, losing the friend seems worse. Isn't that crazy?"

  "No, it's not crazy at all." Maggie brushed off a spot on the stoop, then sat beside Holly. "I understand exactly. I was just about your age with a baby at home when Mike's company sent him to do some work on a dam in a remote part of Thailand. He was able to call home only three times during the four months he was away. I never missed him more. But as long as the nights stretched in my empty bed, Sunday afternoons were the worst."

  She paused to scratch the puppy beneath his chin and make kissy noises. "Back in those days. Mike and I spent every Sunday afternoon up here at the farm. Aunt Sadie would watch the baby and Mike and I would work together on a list of chores she had ready for us. We worked so hard. We played a little. And we talked. We talked about everything under the sun. I knew everything there was to know about Mike Prescott in those days—his politics, his favorite books, his views on religion. His dreams."

  She stretched out her legs, kicked off her sandals and wiggled her toes, then sighed heavily. "I couldn't tell you a title he's read in the past year to save my life."

  "Y'all stopped coming to the farm?"

  Maggie nodded. "When Mike went overseas, Sadie hired a helper. We'd come visit, of course, but it was never the same. We got busy with the kids. Busy with life."

  The puppy in Holly's arms began to squirm and whine, and she set him on the ground. He gave two little puppy yips, then trotted off toward the barn.

  Watching him go, Maggie gave a bittersweet smile. "Just like a man. You can hold them for so long, then they want to go exploring."

  "Justin didn't want to go exploring. I sent him." Glumly, Holly added, "I just didn't expect him to make a discovery quite so soon."

  "Yeah. It's a rotten feeling, knowing your man is off exploring."

  "It's one of the worst feelings a woman can experience, in my opinion," Grace said. Maggie and Holly both looked over their shoulders in surprise as Grace opened the screen door and stepped outside. "Mind if I join you for a time? Sadie has gone up to her attic to look for something."

  She carefully made her way down the porch steps and took a seat in the metal lawn chair, Aunt Sadie's "pea shelling" chair, just to the right of the kitchen stoop. "Ben had a bimbo once. Well, more than once, since the affair lasted three months. I didn't call her a bimbo. My term was 'paramour.' Which do you think is more insulting? I'm not certain I can decide."

  Maggie couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Ben? Your fifty-year Ben?"

  "Funny you should put it that way. I found out about the affair on his fiftieth birthday. She gave him a gift. A watch. The idiot forgot to take it off when he came home. Although, I've always thought, subconsciously, he wore it on purpose. The man couldn't handle the guilt. He wanted to get caught."

  The emotions that rumbled through Maggie caught her by surprise. All three of them had been betrayed by their men. Wasn't that just a fine how-dee-doo. Were no men faithful? She recalled that moment in Holly's kitchen the other night when Grace had snapped that no-excuse-for-infidelity comment. She should have seen it then. Questions danced on her tongue like champagne bubbles. Answers seemed imperative to hear.

  After all, Grace and Ben were still married. Maybe affairs didn't always murder marriages.

  "What happened? Who was she? Did you have a clue beforehand?"

  Graze gazed reflectively out toward the barn. "I knew things weren't right in our marriage long before he wore that watch home. He and I quit talking, quit doing much of anything together, and I let it go because Liza, our youngest, was in trouble. She'd married a young man who had developed a drinking problem, and she was trying to save him and her marriage. She needed her mom and all my energy was directed toward her. Then Ben's company announced a series of layoffs. For three months, he held on to his job, but on the final release, he got his pink slip."

  She waited for a long moment before continuing. "I still didn't give him the attention he needed. I'm not excusing him, mind you, or condoning what he did, but I recognize that I contributed to our troubles. I wasn't there for him when he needed me. I left him vulnerable to someone who was."

  Maggie shifted uncomfortably as Holly snorted with disgust. "The bimbo."

  Grace nodded. "She set her cap for my Ben, never mind the fact he was a married man. We knew her from church and—"

  "Church!" Maggie exclaimed.

  "That's disgusting," Holly declared.

  "Lots of sinnin' goin' on at St. Luke's. Believe me."

  Maggie shifted position on the stoop. She truly didn't want to hear all the gory details; they hit too close to home right now. Yet, the reality that Ben and Grace had overcome their troubles dangled out in front of her like a carrot, and she wanted desperately to know the secret of their success.

  Not that she wanted to patch things up with Mike. Oh, no. She was too angry. Furiously angry. Not just because of his Arts Festival date. Though she hadn't recognized it until now, Maggie suspected she'd been angry at Mike for a very long time.

  Attempting to hurry the conversation along, she asked, "So how did you get from sinnin' to singing his praises? Since we're planning your golden wedding anniversary party, you obviously found a way."

  "It wasn't easy. I was devastated when I found out. She was younger, of course. Not as young as our children, but close enough. Ben and I separated. He even filed for divorce."

  "Oh." Maggie's stomach sank like a rock. "Tell me he didn't sail off to the Caribbean with her. I don't think I can do this anniversary party if he did."

  "No, not that," Grace said with a chuckle.

  "I can't believe you can laugh about it," Holly marveled. "I'm afraid I'd still be crying about it all these years later."

  "Oh, I cried plenty of tears. An ocean of them. And I got angry and I grieved. Sometimes I wanted to murder him. Or her. Or him and her. Other times I was tempted to call her up and tell her she could have him for all I cared. I was forty-nine-years old and life as I had known it had vanished. I was miserable. Throw menopause into the mix and it only gets uglier."

  Maggie shuddered at the thought. Propelling herself to her feet, she stepped down onto the grass. Her gaze trailed around the backyard, fixed on the blossoms of the magnolia tree standing halfway to the barn. In her mind's eye, she saw bunches of ripe yellow bananas instead of large, fragrant white blossoms.

  Tropical fruit. Tropical women. Bikini bimbo or debutante, church lady or PTA-mom-with-cute-little-daughter-on-the-make, if Mike didn't have one already, it wouldn't be long. He liked sex too much.

  She cleared her throat and asked, "How long were you apart?"

  "Four and a half months. It seemed like four years."

  "How did you get back together?"

  Grace smiled at the memory. "He called and asked me for a date. I'll never forget it. I was just walking out the door to meet my lawyer for lunch when the phone rang. I debated letting it ring, but that's difficult for me."

  "It's impossible for me," Maggie said. "I cannot ignore a ringing phone. That's why I always turn off the cellular when I'm driving. I don't want to crash into a tree when I'm fumbling around to answer it. Personally, I think it's a genetic thing."

  "I don't have trouble with it," Holly said.

  "We know," Maggie drawled.

  Grace continued. "I thought we'd go to dinner and talk about the kids, the divorce, who would get what and all of that. Instead, he took me dancing. We hadn't been dancing in years. When he took me home, he parked at the curb. We sat in the car in the dark and talked, really talked, for the first time in forever. He told me he was sorry and that he'd been seeing a marriage counselor and that he'd like me to go with him. He told me he'd ended the affair and he didn't want a divorce. He asked for my forgiveness."

  "So that was it? You kissed and made up?"

  "Oh no. Repairing our marriage took a lot of time and effort. I had to understand that our marriage hadn't failed because of one major episode—his affair—but because of lots of little careless ones committed by the both of us. I had to learn that forgiveness was really a gift I gave to myself, more than to Ben. Once I figured that out, the rest of it came easier. Except the trust, that is. That was the most difficult thing to rebuild."

  "So how did you do that?" Holly asked.

  "Counseling helped, but what really healed the wound was time. That and getting cancer."

  "What?" Maggie asked.

  Holly's chin dropped in shock.

  Grace nodded. "Following my third chemo treatment, my hair started falling out in clumps. I stood in the shower until the water ran cold, sobbing my eyes out. When I stepped out of the shower, Ben was standing at the bathroom sink. He'd shaved his head."

  "How sweet," Holly said.

  Maggie sniffed, unwilling to let the man completely off the hook for cheating on his wife.

  "I realized I wasn't the least bit surprised. I'd known he'd be there for me. I'd known I could count on him. That's when I knew for certain and without a doubt that we'd make it. I trusted him. We had survived adultery and our marriage was stronger than ever. That knowledge gave me strength. Ben gave me strength. Then and every day since."

  Holly asked, "Why have you told us all this?"

  Grace gave them a Mona Lisa smile. "I thought maybe you needed to hear it. Maybe I needed to hear myself say it. As you know, I've been impatient with Ben of late. This morning he did something sweet—just a little something, mind you—and it reminded me of how lucky I am. How lucky we are."

  "Are you saying Holly and I should overlook debutantes and bimbos?"

  "Not at all. That's a choice that only the individual can make. I just thought it was something you, my friends, should know under the circumstances."

  Circumstances, Maggie knew, being Justin's and Mike's wandering eyes and maybe something else.

  When Sadie appeared at the back door, a stack of scrapbooks in her hand, Grace rose from her seat and walked toward the stoop. Pausing, she took Holly's hand, then Maggie's. "I thought you should know about this because the two of you are working so very hard on my anniversary plans."

  "I want you to know that this party is more than an event to mark the fiftieth year of our marriage. It is more than a celebration of love. It's a celebration of life. The happiness and the heartaches. You know that old saying about what doesn't kill you makes you stronger? Well, I am the perfect example of it. Ben's betrayal could have killed our partnership. It was as powerful and as destructive as the cancer. But in effect, it prepared us for the battle to come. We couldn't know that at the time, of course, which is the point I want to make to the two of you. I want you to think about that in the context of your own situations. I think it could help you."

  Maggie and Holly sat silently for a time. Maggie mulled over Grace's revelation, tried to put it into context with her and Mike's situation. Similarities existed, but so, too, did differences. Mike denied cheating on her. Did she believe him?

  Maggie simply couldn't say. Believing what she wanted to be true came harder, because she could be fooling herself.

  A puff of breeze stirred the leaves of the tall cotton-wood tree that shaded the backyard and sent the swing made of rope and a weathered board swaying. The smell of freshly turned dirt drifted on the air and mixed with the kitchen scents of cinnamon and peaches to create that unique aroma that Maggie associated with family and the farm. She knew a sudden and now familiar soul-deep yearning for the past and the way life used to be. Before her boys grew up. Before Mike and she grew apart.