“Of course,” Ellis said. “But orange juice is good for you. No coffee, though, right?”

“Nope,” Dorie said, shaking her head. “Caffeine’s not good for the baby, sad to say. I’m missing that a lot more than the alcohol. And I’m already getting tired of drinking all that milk.”

Julia glanced over her shoulder at Dorie. “Have you even gained any weight yet?”

“Actually, I’ve lost seven pounds,” Dorie reported. “But that’s just because I had hideous morning sickness the first two months. The nurse-midwife at my obstetrician’s office says I’m doing just fine. She says some women don’t really start gaining until they’re in the middle of their second trimester.”

Julia shook her head. “Only you, Dorie Dunaway, could get pregnant and actually lose weight.”

“Is somebody pregnant?” Madison stood in the doorway, looking elegant even in white capris and an oversized pink-and-white striped shirt. Her blond hair was in a ponytail, and she wore pink Ferragamo ballet flats.

Dorie blushed and Julia looked chagrined.

“Well…” Ellis began.

“I am,” Dorie said, smiling brightly. She sat down at the kitchen table and held up one of the champagne flutes. “Come sit and hear my tale of woe.”

Madison sipped the mimosa cautiously as Dorie calmly repeated the story she’d told her friends just the night before.

“Wow,” Madison said, when Dorie had finished. “So … your husband doesn’t know yet?”

“No,” Dorie said, nibbling on a piece of bacon she’d snagged from the platter in the middle of the table. “I’m such a coward, I just really haven’t been able to face talking to him yet—let alone tell him about the baby.”

“Well,” Madison said, “I admire your courage. I don’t know how I’d feel about being a single mother. My folks split up when I was thirteen. It was rough. I mean, raising a baby alone, that’s a lot.”

Julia slid a waffle onto Madison’s plate. “So,” she said, trying to sound casual. “What about you, Madison? Kids? Husband?”

“Neither,” Madison said without looking up. “I guess I’ve been too busy concentrating on work to settle down and start a family.”

Julia’s eyes flickered meaningfully at Maryn’s ring finger—the one with Don’s diamond solitaire. “Oh, this?” Maryn said, fluttering the finger in question. “This is an old family piece.”

“Some family,” Julia said.

“Julia and I have already appointed ourselves Dorie’s baby’s godmothers,” Ellis was saying.

“Fairy godmothers,” Julia added. “Of course, she’ll be the most beautiful child in the world. With Dorie’s hair and eyes.”

Madison glanced at Dorie. “Oh, you already know you’re having a girl?”

“No,” Dorie said. “I don’t want to know the baby’s sex ahead of time.”

“Julia thinks she’s a witch,” Ellis explained. “She thinks she can just will Dorie to have a little girl so we can spoil her rotten.”

“Naturally,” Julia agreed. “An angelic little girl. With red-gold curls and green eyes. Her Aunt Julia will teach her how to dress and accessorize—skills her mommy, unfortunately, never learned.”

“Hey!” Dorie said good-naturedly, smoothing the wrinkles in her faded Our Lady of Angels soccer tournament T-shirt. “I think I resent that.”

“Her Auntie Ellis will teach her math, and how to swim, and of course, we’ll read lots of books together. I’ll take her to the zoo, and the beach.…”

“I’ll take her to New York and Bergdorf’s,” Julia said.

“And if it’s a boy?” Dorie asked, spreading the palms of her hands across her belly.

“We’ll put him on a raft and gently shove him out to sea,” Julia declared.

“Julia!” Ellis and Dorie exclaimed.

“Kidding,” Julia assured them. “Mostly.”

20

It was nearly three by the time Maryn managed to pry herself away from the other women. Brunch had been a leisurely affair, and truthfully, she’d been surprised to find how much she enjoyed their company. They hadn’t made her feel like an outsider at all. It felt good to laugh, relax, let her guard down. And with women her own age. That was the big surprise. But she’d only allowed herself to relax a little. Ellis and Dorie seemed genuinely warm and friendly. But Julia was a different story. Julia listened intently to every little shred of information Maryn had reluctantly imparted about herself.

Lying about her marital status had been a mistake. When had she become such an accomplished liar, Maryn wondered. She should have just admitted that she’d left her husband. They would have been sympathetic. Instead, Julia was now even more suspicious. She wasn’t overtly hostile, but Maryn could tell from long practice when another woman was sizing her up. Just as Maryn was accustomed to sizing up every woman she met, right from the start. Well, that was fine. Julia was watching her. And she was watching Julia.

Maryn knelt beside the bed and reached for the briefcase. She laid the stacks of bills out on the bed and counted the money, her heart pounding as the amount grew. Ten thousand dollars in each stack, a hundred thousand dollars in all. The stacks were bound with green rubber bands, not the neat paper bands a bank would use. And the bills weren’t new; their numbers were nonsequential.

Her mouth felt dry. What was Don doing with this much cash? She looked warily at the laptop. Were the answers locked somewhere inside Don’s computer?

She grabbed the power cord and plugged in the MacBook. It booted up right away. But she didn’t have Don’s password. For twenty minutes, she played around with different combinations of letters, words, and numbers. His birthday, her birthday. Their anniversary. That was a laugh!

She’d managed to lie to herself just as convincingly as Don had lied to her, right from the very start of their relationship. As it turned out, he already had a family. Of course, she hadn’t known about his wife and teenaged children until they’d been practically living together for three months.

Adam had broken the news to her. Reluctantly, he claimed. It had been a terrible blow to Maryn. She’d never claimed to be an angel. She’d slept with her share of men, broken her share of hearts. But she had a rule. No married men. Ever. She’d never do to some other woman what another woman had done to Maryn’s mother. She was a lot of things, but she wasn’t a home wrecker. Or so she thought.

Another lie. There had been so many, she’d forgotten what was truth and what was not.

She’d confronted Don about his lies, and he’d laughed them off. “We’ve been living apart for years,” he told her. “Abby doesn’t care what I do or who I sleep with, as long as the money keeps flowing. She thinks I’m her personal ATM. So why do you care?”

“What about your kids?” she’d demanded. “Don’t you care about them?”

“I see the kids,” he’d said carelessly. “It’s not like they’re in first grade. Ashley’s what, fourteen? Cash is sixteen. They have their own lives, their own interests. They’re not interested in taking a trip to Disney World with Daddy, Maryn.”

He’d left a copy of the divorce papers on the dresser, where she’d see them. And three months later, on a Friday in early February, he’d come home and proposed. If she were brutally honest with herself, she had to admit that the diamond solitaire, twinkling from its white satin cushioned box, had blinded her. To everything. She’d wanted a real wedding, with at least her mother and Aunt Patsy—and Adam—present, but Don had flatly refused. In the end, they’d gotten married before a justice of the peace Don knew, and flown to Aruba for a five-day honeymoon.

Those five days had been the happiest of her life. Don was relaxed, he was tender, attentive, everything she’d dreamed a husband would be. He’d talked about their future together. He’d already bought a lot where they’d build their dream home: ten thousand square feet, five bedrooms, five baths, a three-car garage. And it was on a lake. Maryn would have a bathroom with a fireplace and a whirlpool tub, all marble. And a kitchen that would rival any in the best restaurants in town.