She'd done a lot of that this week. Smiling. It had been a good week. Although Holly hadn't seen Justin, she'd talked with him on the phone every night. They avoided the touchy subjects like the two Ms—marriage and moving—choosing to center their conversations around his work and her students instead. The banter between them was almost as comfortable as it used to be, before the Pink Sisterhood wedding gown sale. She'd told him about being named Teacher of the Year and he'd sent her congratulatory flowers at school.

  Classes this week had gone well, too. Her kids had scored high on one of the harder tests of the year. She'd had dinner with her dad one night and attended a neighborhood Crime Watch barbeque on another. Wednesday afternoon she'd accompanied Maggie to a florist where they ordered flowers for Grace's church for the renewal of vows. Plans for the big event were just about done—a good thing, in Holly's opinion, since Maggie's social life was taking up so much of her time now.

  The woman had four dates this week. Four dates with four different men. Nice men, too. Not a one of them a loser. Holly didn't know how she did it. She had girlfriends in their twenties—attractive, outgoing, intelligent women—who couldn't get dates. Maggie decided to date for the first time in years and she immediately had men falling at her feet. It boggled the mind.

  At least her reason for missing tonight's anniversary portrait sitting was a good one. Maggie's boys had called her this afternoon wanting to take her to dinner. Considering the tension between them of late, she'd been delighted. Holly hoped Maggie and her sons could smooth things over this evening because the rift with her boys troubled Maggie as much, if not more, than her estrangement from Mike. She'd said as much when she'd called Holly and asked if she'd fill in as photographer's helper at the Hardemans' tonight.

  The portrait was something extra Maggie had arranged and she was specific about the shots she wanted: individual portraits, couple portraits, family portraits, father-sons, and mother-daughter. Holly needed to make certain the photographer covered the list, but primarily, her job was to soothe Grace's endless fretting about how much the photographs were costing Pink Sisterhood.

  A noise behind her caused Holly to glance over her shoulder. The Hardemans' daughter Sally entered the kitchen. "How's it going in there?"

  "Great. The photographer is wonderful. He set Mother right at ease. Not a mean feat, when it comes to having her picture taken."

  "She doesn't like cameras?"

  "She loves cameras, as long as she's the one behind the shutter. My mother is the snapshot queen; she has dozens and dozens of albums filled with pictures. The problem for us is that Mom's in only a few of them."

  "Really?" Holly snapped her fingers. "We need to add single-use cameras to our list for guests to use to take snapshots during your parents' anniversary party. They make those cute little ones with wedding bells and ribbons on them. Your mom won't be able to hide from two hundred cameras."

  Sally beamed. "What a wonderful gift for our family. That's a great idea. Mother will hate it when it happens, but she'll be so glad to have the pictures when the party is over."

  Holly thought of Maggie's secret renewal-of-vows plan. She was tempted to clue Sally in on the scheme, but since she didn't have a good sense of how Grace's daughter would react she decided to keep her mouth shut. Maggie would have a fit if Grace learned about the plan and put a premature kibosh to it.

  "Your mom seems to be looking forward to the party."

  "The party, the planning, has been the best thing to happen to my mother in a long time. For so long now, too long, Mom and Dad's lives have revolved around treatment and little else. The Pink Sisterhood gift has been a godsend for this family."

  "I'm so glad the foundation was able to convince Grace to accept it. I understand it wasn't easy."

  Sally snorted. "The woman is as stubborn as they come. Hardheaded and proud as can be. The stubbornness has served her well in her cancer fight, but the pride makes it difficult to help her."

  "She's told Maggie and me that it's difficult for her to ask for help."

  "It drives me crazy. My brothers and I would do anything for her. We want to help her, but she won't let us. Take this anniversary party, for instance. Before Pink Sisterhood stepped in, we wanted to host the party as part of our gift to them. You wouldn't believe the restrictions she placed on us."

  Actually, Holly thought she probably would believe them.

  "And Dad, I don't know how he manages day in and day out. She pushes him away and he pushes himself back. I don't think she understands how important it is to him to help her."

  "And maybe he doesn't understand how much she needs to stand on her own."

  "I know. I know that." Sally shook her head. "It's just so hard. People like to say that when a family member gets cancer, the entire family gets cancer and in a way, that's true. But when it comes to fighting the enemy, battling the cancer, we're powerless. We're not the surgeons who cut it out or the oncologists who poison it. All we can do is drive her to the doctor and pick up her medicine and hold her hand. When she won't let us do even that much, it makes a person feel, oh, I don't know the right word. Impotent, I guess. That makes you angry and then you feel guilty. Yet, I understand and Dad realizes that it's vitally important for her to be strong and independent. We all try to keep a balance, and sometimes we succeed, others we... well... trip a bit."

  Seeing familiar pain in another daughter's expression, Holly was relieved when Grace's granddaughter Belle poked her head into the kitchen. "Mom. It's time to take the individual family pictures."

  "I'll be right there, honey." Sally flashed an apologetic smile toward Holly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't spout off like that. It's just that she's so happy in there tonight and it's so wonderful to see. Sometimes my emotions overflow."

  "Please, don't apologize for your feelings. Women do that too much. It's one of my pet peeves. Your feelings are honest and they're yours."

  Sally's smile stretched to a grin. "I see why my mother likes you so much. She told me you mentor a young girl who is losing her mother. I suspect you're excellent at it."

  Embarrassed, Holly struggled for words. "I don't... I only..."

  "Mom, come on," called Grace's granddaughter. "We're waiting."

  "Saved by the Belle," Sally quipped with a twinkle in her eyes. She checked her reflection in the chrome surface of the toaster, then finger-waved as she left the kitchen.

  Knowing Maggie would expect a report, Holly waited for a few minutes, then followed. For the next twenty minutes, she watched the Hardeman family tease and joke with each other while the photographer made his way through Maggie's list.

  "Great," the photographer said. "Two more to go. We're down to pets. Who has the cats?"

  "They're in Nana's room," Belle said, scooting off her mother's lap as the front doorbell rang. "I'll get them."

  Sally's husband headed for the door, wrestling his billfold out of his back pocket. "I'll get supper."

  When the pictures were done, Holly joined the family for pizza. As the younger families began to take their leave, she picked up her backpack and prepared to go home. Grace said, "Oh. Must you leave? I'd hoped you'd be able to stay a bit and help me with something."

  Other than grading today's quiz, Holly didn't have plans for the rest of the evening. She replaced her backpack on the counter. "I'm in no rush. I expect Cassie Blankenship to call, but she has my cell number."

  "How is she doing?"

  Holly frowned. "It's difficult to say. Our phone conversation is a Cancer Free zone. She seldom mentions her mom. She said she'd call today after she gets home from the salon. She's trying out hairstyles for the prom. So, my friend, what can I help you with?"

  "I've been working on my Life List. I want to get your opinion."

  Holly's stomach sank. She wished she'd never mentioned her Life List to Maggie and Grace. For some reason, both women thought they needed Holly to check off on the items they chose to include. No matter how often she explained that the list signified her friends' own personal goals, both Grace and Maggie used her as a sounding board for their ideas. To be honest, Holly rather enjoyed listening to Maggie's outrageous ideas. So far they'd been silly things. The woman never failed to be entertaining.

  Grace, on the other hand, tended to be more serious. The last Holly had heard, Grace had three items on her list: to reconcile with an old friend with whom she'd had a falling-out years ago, to do an act of charity every day, and to bake with her grandchildren at least once a week.

  Each item said so much about Grace and the kind of person she was. Caring. Compassionate. Filled with love. Family-centered. What bothered Holly about Grace's list, why she resisted discussing it, was her sense that Grace was using her list to put her affairs in order.

  "I've decided on my goal number four," Grace said.

  Holly braced herself to hear something along the lines of I will put name stickers on my angel collection indicating who I want each piece to go to once I'm gone.

  "I want to copy you and your number twenty-one."

  Surprised, Holly mentally ran through her list. "Wicked? You want to be deliciously wicked?"

  "I don't want to be deliciously wicked," Grace chastised. "That's not what your twenty-one says. I want to do something deliciously wicked."

  A slow smile spread across Holly's face. "What do you have in mind?"

  "I'm not sure. I have an idea or two, but it's not something I've spent a lot of time thinking about in the past. I hoped you might have some suggestions."

  "Hmm... should I be flattered or insulted?" Holly asked with a laugh.

  "Flattered. Definitely flattered." Grace opened her pantry and removed a plastic cake carrier. "It's German chocolate. I hid it from my family. I thought a discussion like this deserved chocolate."

  "Grace, I adore the way you think."

  She cut the first slice just as the doorbell rang. "Ben, will you get that, please?"

  Moments later, Maggie Prescott stood in the kitchen doorway. Her eyes were red and tears ran in mascara-stained streaks down her cheeks. Her bottom lip trembled as she said, "Hi, y'all. Got a tissue? Guess I should've shopped for waterproof mascara, after all."

  "Oh, Maggie." Grace rose from the table.

  Holly rushed toward her friend. "What's happened?"

  "My babies. They hate me." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "My babies hate me."

  As Maggie buried her head in her hands and sobbed, Holly cast a pleading look toward Grace. Ben stuck his head in the door and waggled his eyebrows. Grace shook her head, then put her arm around Maggie's waist and steered her toward the kitchen table as Ben made himself scarce. Knowing Maggie, Holly grabbed a box of tissues off the counter and shoved one into her friend's hand.

  "Put the kettle on, would you, Holly?"

  "I can't believe they hate me," Maggie wailed.

  Grace pulled a chair away from the table. "Sit down, dear, and tell us what happened."

  "It's Mike. Of course, it's Mike. Who else would be so cruel as to turn my boys against me?" Maggie melted into her seat, then wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and started sobbing all over again.

  In the midst of a vu moment, Holly wondered how many boxes of tissues Grace had in the house. "Maggie. What happened?"

  "He called last night. Jake Randall took me on a picnic and I slipped in the mud so I was in the shower when Mike called and Jake told him that's where I was and Mike took it wrong and he called the boys and asked what the hell is your mother doing and they think I'm a slut and it's not me it's their dad and they won't listen to me because they are just like him and I'm so angry at them. I am angry at all of them."

  That was just the start. For the next half hour while drinking two cups of tea and devouring three pieces of cake, Maggie rambled and vented and wailed and wept. The story that emerged both stirred Holly's ire and broke her heart. She didn't know what to say to offer Maggie comfort.

  Grace managed to sum up the situation eloquently. "In this moment, I am reminded of an old saying. Men have only two faults." She patted Maggie's hand. "Everything they say..."

  Holly and Maggie finished it with her, "...and everything they do."

  The resulting laughter lightened the mood and Maggie's consumption of tissues slowed considerably. "I'm so glad I came over here. Y'all have made me feel so much better. I just knew you would."

  Holly licked chocolate icing off her fork. "I wish we could do more. Would it help any if Grace or I talked to your sons, tried to explain your position?"

  "You mean those thick-headed, dim-witted, lame-brained boys I've devoted my life to? Thank you, but no. I'm not even certain I'll talk to them again myself." Maggie wrinkled her nose. "Now, let's change the subject. How did the portrait sitting go?"

  "Oh, it was wonderful," Grace said. Enthusiasm lit her eyes and colored her voice as she described the activities of the evening. Talk turned to the anniversary party and the three women spent the next half hour discussing details and making plans for the coming weekend. They declared the task of finding the perfect dress for Grace to be the first priority.

  At ten o'clock, Holly called it an evening, reminding the others that tomorrow was a workday for her. Maggie, too, decided to take her leave, and since her car was parked in the driveway behind Holly's, she backed out of the driveway first.

  As Holly waited on Maggie, Grace approached her car. Eyes gleaming, she knocked on the driver's-side window. Holly thumbed the button and the window lowered.

  "It's time, Holly. Remember my idea? I know just what I need to do to accomplish number four on my Life List. Why don't you come with me. It'll qualify as your number twenty-one. It'll be a two-for-one deal."

  In the face of Grace's excitement, Holly didn't know whether to nod or run. "I'm almost afraid to ask. What wicked action do you have in mind?"

  "Nothing as exciting as sex in a storeroom, I'm afraid," she said with a devilish grin. "Still, it qualifies and I think it'll help Maggie's morale. How about it, Holly? Want to help me heist Mike Prescott's sails?"

  Chapter 11

  Moonlight spilled across the placid surface of Lake Texoma as the weekend died away, fading into the tranquil peace of a Monday morning. On the hillside surrounding the marina, air conditioners droned, while from down on the water came the occasional squeak of Styrofoam dock supports and lap of gentle waves. Drooping strings of yellow dock lights joined halogen lamps perched atop wooden poles to provide pockets of illumination amid the shadows. The night was sleepy, silent, and, Holly thought, more than a little scary.

  What else could she expect when arriving with vandalism on her mind?

  "I can't believe I'm doing this," she muttered, as she tucked her hair beneath the baseball cap Grace brought for purposes of disguise. "I'm a teacher, a role model for children. Nowhere on my Life List does it say anything about committing a felony."

  "Oh, hush." Wearing a stylish ash blond wig from her chemo days, Grace keyed open the trunk of her six-year-old Ford and gestured toward the bag of supplies they'd purchased at the twenty-four-hour Wal-Mart half an hour earlier. "You remind me of my youngest granddaughter. Child whines more than a circular saw."

  "I'm not whining." Holly retrieved the sack from Grace's arm, wincing as the cans inside clinked together. "I'm expressing legitimate reservations. We could get into real trouble for this."

  Grace shut the trunk with a quiet snick. "Maybe. But we're not going to get caught, and even if we did, Texas is a community property state. The boat is still half Maggie's. If she says we acted at her behest, who's to say we'd be in any trouble at all?"

  "But we're not acting at her behest, and if she knew what we are up to she might just tell us to jump off a dock."

  "Balderdash."

  Holly swallowed a laugh. "Balderdash, Grace? Getting a bit spicy with the language, aren't you?"

  "Put a sock in it, Weeks."

  That response stopped Holly in her tracks, causing her tennis shoes to slide across the gravel. Loudly.

  "Hush! You're going to ruin this before it ever gets started."

  Yeah, that's the idea. But Grace Hardeman, criminal-in-the-making, would not be denied. The woman was a terrier. A terrier with gray hair, a Madonna smile, hot pink sneakers, and breast cancer. How the hell was Holly supposed to argue with her?

  Ben Hardeman had proved to be no help. When he drove Grace to Holly's home in the middle of the night, she had asked him to talk some sense into his wife. "This is an idiotic idea," Holly had said. "Never mind the criminality of it. She has no business doing mischief like this. You've got to stop her."

  The man just laughed. Laughed! "Holly, Holly, Holly. Don't you know me well enough by now to know I've tried? Anything short of locking her in the closet wouldn't stop her. Look at her. My Gracie is sparkling. Even if I could change her mind, which I don't believe is possible, I'm not about to attempt anything that might douse her light."

  "But this is the silliest scheme."

  "Yes, and I think we have your Life List to thank, don't we?"

  That, Holly hated to say, was one of the reasons she had such reservations about the entire idea. For the first time, she understood how Justin must have felt about the bungee jumping. Her list was also the reason why she'd agreed to accompany Grace. She felt responsible. This wasn't at all the way she'd intended to satisfy her number twenty-one.

  At that point, Ben had given her a hug. "Don't worry. As Grace loves to tell me and as I'm slowly beginning to understand, it's her life. Whether we like it or not, you and I and everyone else needs to let her live it the way she wants."

  Thinking about it now as a fishy scent drifted on the night air, Holly muttered, "Somehow I don't think the local law is going to listen to that argument when we're caught in the act of committing a felony."

  "Felony, shmelony. We're doing a little redecorating, that's all. Besides, aren't you the one who put 'Do Something Wicked' on her to-do list first?"