“Where’s John?” she asked, holding her giant fabric bag in front of her.

“We’ll get to that,” I said.

Karen. Karen something boring. Sanders or Saunders.

She sat across from Caro and me, and I took a long look at her. Her face was flushing a dull red, and she looked at the table. Dyed black hair, a dull, drab color that came from a drugstore, not a salon. I was a natural blond, and over the years my hair had gradually become streaked with silver. Never colored it a day in my life. She was dressed like a twenty-year-old bohemian—long full skirt, a low-cut leotard showing off her speckled, bony chest. Hard features, small eyes, but cunning, like a . . . like a rhino. A beaky nose, thin lips.

Well, he wasn’t with her because of her looks.

“So I guess you know,” she said, swallowing.

“I sure do, Karen. Or should I call you angel kitten?”

“Barb’s been texting you for almost two months. You didn’t even know it wasn’t your tiger,” Caro said.

“How dare you?” she said, and Caro and I both laughed.

“Barb,” Caro said, “the slut is mad because you pretended to be John.”

“Caro,” I said, “I’m mad because the slut was sleeping with my husband.”

“It wasn’t like that!” Karen said.

“Oh, please,” Caro said.

She twisted one of her silver bracelets. “I . . . we love each other. And you didn’t understand him,” she said. “He said your marriage had been over for years.”

“Jeesh,” I said. “The oldest line in the book, kitten. Did you fall for that? He gave me a beautiful ruby pendant for Christmas.” Juliet had picked it out, of course, but technically, it was from him. “Did he mention how much fun we had with our children and grandchildren?”

She glanced away. “Does he know you’re meeting me?”

“I’ll ask the questions, kitten,” I said. “Let me guess. He and I had grown apart. He wasn’t happy anymore. You made him feel young. He didn’t know what love was until he found you, and if only he’d met you first, gosh golly, life would’ve been super great. He’d leave me, but the children. Or the . . . what, Caro?”

“Or the fact that a divorce would cost him every dime he ever made,” she supplied.

“That’s true, now, isn’t it? Hm.”

Karen’s little eyes darted between us, and she fiddled with her ugly bag. “He was going to leave you. He probably still is.”

Caro laughed.

“Is that what you want? Would you marry him, kitten?” I asked.

“Please stop calling me that,” she said. “And yes. I love him.”

“Oh. How touching,” Caro said. “She loves him, Barb.”