Sophie stretched both arms over the back of the booth and looked smug. “The bottom line is, I’m a genius, and Harper and Luke are in a relationship.”

“I feel like a slow clap is called for,” Gloria said.

Sophie pointed at her. “You’re funny. I like that about you.”

Well, at least there was some part of her she hadn’t allowed Glenn to destroy.

“Now that we’re all caught up on my love life,” Harper said dryly. “How’s work going?”

Gloria realized Harper was talking to her. She, Gloria Rosemarie Parker, had a j-o-b. The rush of pleasure at the realization was swift, potent.

“It’s going well. Claire and Della have been very patient with me.” She had a lot to learn, enough that it was still overwhelming. But Gloria had a glimmer of hope that she’d be able to hold her own…in a year or two.

They ordered—an iced tea and tuna melt for her—from Sandra, the redheaded waitress/proprietress, who only gave Gloria the “aw, poor girl” look for a second. Once the food arrived, they slid into a comfortable banter about work, kids, and town gossip.

“Heard Mrs. Nickelbee was excited to make a purchase from you,” Sophie said, snagging a French fry off Harper’s plate.

Gloria resisted the urge to make a face. “She seemed to like her flowers,” she said, taking a bite of tuna to prevent herself from having to comment further.

“You grew up here,” Sophie said, after a gulp of her diet soda. “You know everyone feels entitled to everyone else’s business.”

“I’m hoping that someone else’s business will interest them soon,” Gloria sighed. She wondered how interested people would be to know that she’d kissed Aldo, that she had a tentative date with him when he came back. Would they think she was crazy? He was crazy?

A threesome, two men in business casual khakis and polo shirts and a woman in a flowing maxi dress, took stools at the counter. Gloria recognized the woman as Kate Marshall from the town council and owner of a mortgage company.

The man in the pale pink polo that hugged his beer belly hung up his phone and tossed it on the counter in disgust. “Well, Merle’s hip is officially broken.”

“This is a disaster,” Kate grumbled. “The man’s been chairing the Fourth of freaking July festival for thirty years. Who the hell are we going to find this late in the game?”

Gloria perked up, openly eavesdropping now. Harper opened her mouth to say something, but Gloria shushed her. She had been an organizer in school. She’d once loved the neat and tidy coordination of tiny details into one big, cohesive picture.

She’d once clearly been a nerd, Gloria realized.

“I sure as hell don’t have time,” Combover announced.