LITMIR.BIZ

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      He’d also played video games with his buddies back then. He had to do that, considering the fact that he was going to school for a career in the game industry. Then he’d gotten his entry-level job as a QA tester and it was as if he’d found El Dorado. The job was supposed to lead to bigger things, but once he got hooked on testing games, he’d forgotten about bigger things—including a bigger salary.

      Living anywhere near Seattle wasn’t cheap. Since they could both work from home, they’d opted for small-town life. Living off the land. Blah, blah. The only one living off the land last summer had been her when she’d gone blackberry picking with Stef one Saturday and they’d made jam together. Steve had used it for everything from ice cream topping to PB&Js and then asked when she was going to make some more. She’d said she would if he’d go berry picking with her. He hadn’t. There’d been no more jam.

      He’d promised to get working on the house, too. Her parents had lent them the money for a down payment on their fixer-upper. The only proviso was that the house had to stay in her name until they were married (Dad’s doing). Steve was going to take care of the sweat equity and fix the place up. The house was in need of paint both outside and in and had a broken step on the back porch. In spite of the fact that she’d weeded the flower beds, it was a bit of an eyesore. She was sure most of the neighbors had hoped when they moved in that they’d whip the place into shape. So far there’d been no sweating, other than by her—Steve had been too busy “working,” even when he wasn’t—and no whipping. But painting was on his to-do list. Come summer, he was going to get out there and get busy.

      Dad had his doubts. And not just about the home improvements getting done.

      Now Griffin was starting to have doubts, as well. She tried to picture her life with little Steves running all over the house. Or rather, sitting all over the house. Playing video games. While the back porch step got saggier and the paint continued to chip. Her parents had come to visit Thanksgiving weekend, and Steve had been his usual easygoing, jovial self. Dad had looked around the house and frowned a lot.

      Dad wasn’t the only one frowning these days. Griffin wasn’t exactly happy about their life together. Sometimes she felt it had shrunk to the size of a TV screen. Other than a Friday night at Stef and Brad’s, they didn’t do much as a couple. If it hadn’t been for Stef and the other women who had befriended her, Griffin would have felt completely marooned on a gamer’s desert island.

      That would change, she’d told herself. Once they had kids, they’d do things as a family—go on picnics, take hikes in the mountains. It was part of why she and Steve had moved here to Icicle Falls, to get out into nature, get moving. So far she was the only one moving. And all that lovely snow last winter, perfect for snowboarding? He’d gone a couple of times, but then, well, there was this new game...

      She’d been so excited when they first moved to town. Where was the excitement now?

      Through Stef’s living room window, she could see several women, all ready to shower her with presents and hear how the wedding plans were coming along. The wedding plans were coming along fine. The invitations were addressed and ready to send. But she hadn’t mailed them yet.

      As she stepped on the front porch, the burble of voices drifted out to her. Everyone was having fun. She’d be having fun once she got inside. Of course she would. And she and Steve were going to be happy. He’d regain the balance in his life. They’d start doing more stuff together, talk more. He was just going through an adultolescent stage.

      She realized she was frowning, just like her dad when he came to visit. She reminded herself to smile as she knocked on the door.

      A moment later Stef opened it, looking like her usual put-together self, wearing jeans, great jewelry and a really cute blouse that said, I’m new. Stef could afford new clothes. She worked part-time at the bank and her husband made a decent living. She even bought books new at Mountain Escape Books. Griffin bought them used on Amazon and haunted the library.

      “You look great,” Stef gushed.

      She’d had this sweater for three years. The pants had come from a thrift store outing and the shoes weren’t exactly new, either. But classics never went out of style, right?

      She walked into the living room and the misplaced drapes immediately jumped out at her. Oh, boy. Stef had to be happy about that. Not.

      “Brad’s...” Stef stopped, unable to continue.

      “He decided to knock out the wall,” Griffin finished for her.

      “I nearly knocked him out when I came home yesterday. I’m sorry things are such a disaster,” Stef finished as she led Griffin into the room to a chorus of hellos.

      “At least he does something,” Griffin said. Stef’s husband was trying. Steve was...playing video games.

      “We don’t care,” said Bailey Black, who was within hearing distance. “And it’s not that bad.”

      “Yeah, it is,” Stef said, “but thanks.”

      “It’s such a guy thing to do,” Bailey’s big sister Samantha said. “Blake’s favorite trick is to start a project right before we have to go somewhere.”

      “Yeah, but at least he finishes his projects,” Stef muttered. “Here, come into the kitchen and get some punch,” she said to Griffin. “We also have lavender cookies from Tea Time, and Cass made an apricot torte.”

      Griffin followed her out and helped herself to a cup of champagne punch, passing on the other treats.

      “I swear, you’re not human,” Stef said in disgust.

      “When you take pictures of food all day, it kind of turns you off,” Griffin lied. Actually, she loved food, but she’d been fat when she was a kid and she was never going there again, even if she had to starve herself. Which it seemed she did a lot.

      “I was hoping we could move the party to Cass’s place,” Stef said, “but her ceiling fell in.” She nodded at the apricot torte. “You’d better have a bite of that or her feelings will be hurt.”

      Griffin had a bite of a gingerbread boy every week for the same reason when she met Stef on her day off for coffee. Stef always finished her cookie for her. Stef had to be a witch, because she somehow magically sucked the calories out of stuff before she ate it.

      “You got that right,” said Cass, who’d joined them.

      Griffin cut a sliver and put it on her plate. “Your ceiling fell in?”

      “Roof troubles,” Cass said with a sigh. “Thank God Charley loaned me her man for the day. He’s over there fixing the mess while I bury my sorrows in carbs.” She shook her head. “I dug my table out from under all the gook that was on it. Thank God I had a pad covering it, or the whole thing would’ve been toast.”

      Stacy Thomas drifted out to the kitchen. “This is fun,” she said to Stef. “I love showers.”

      “We should’ve had it at your house,” Stef said, frowning at the misplaced drapes.

      “You should’ve said something. I would have. But really, Stef, nobody minds. We just all like being together.” Stacy took another piece of the apricot torte. “This is addictive,” she said to Cass.

      It was good. Griffin had one bite and set the rest aside.

      “You’re killing me here,” Cass said. “Do you rent out willpower?” She cut a piece from the other end of Griffin’s ignored torte and popped it in her mouth. “Never mind. Willpower is overrated.”

      The doorbell rang, and Stef hurried to let in another guest.

      Griffin and the other two women returned to the living room, which was packed with guests and extra folding chairs. Muriel Sterling-Wittman, the town’s local celebrity, was entering the room now. She wrote as Muriel Sterling and all her books were prominently displayed in the bookstore window. One of these days Griffin was going to buy one.

      Talk

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