The notepaper had come in a rainbow assortment of colors. Megan’s had been yellow. But she was already regretting what she’d written. It was too personal, too revealing to be shared, let alone have herself unmasked as the writer.

The first page was pink. “Here goes.” Maggie slipped on her glasses. “‘Love each other.’ I’ll bet I know who wrote this one.” She smiled at Katy, who was already blushing and giggling. “That’s the best advice ever.”

The next page was yellow. Megan shrank into her chair, but the note wasn’t hers. “ ‘Learn to laugh. It’s the only way to survive.’” After a few guesses, one of the older women confessed.

The next page was blue. “‘Sexy lingerie is always a great idea. Red and black are the best colors to get a man’s attention. And it doesn’t hurt to put a dab of perfume here and there. You’ll know where, honey.’” Maggie chuckled. “Francine, you naughty girl! That sounds just like you!”

Francine hooted with laughter.

Then Maggie drew out another yellow page. Megan’s heart sank. Why hadn’t she written something more conventional?

Maggie adjusted her glasses and cleared her throat. “‘Watch your man sleep. Touch his hair, feel his breath, and remember all the reasons you love him.’”

“Oh . . .” Maggie’s voice broke slightly. “This is beautiful—almost like a song. I don’t know who wrote it, but she sounds like a lady who’s very much in love. Does anybody want to fess up?” She glanced around the room. “No? Well, I’ll put it aside for now and guess later.”

As she slid another page out of the folder, Megan exhaled in relief. For now, she was off the hook. But she wouldn’t feel safe until the party was over.

The game continued to its end, followed by the opening of the shower gifts. By the time the last present was unwrapped, the afternoon was getting on, and most of the busy women needed to get home. Maggie stood by the door to thank each one as she left. Megan was among the last. As she approached the door, Maggie motioned her aside.

“What you wrote was beautiful, Megan,” she said. “It took me a little time to guess it was you. But when you didn’t admit to any of the others, I knew.”

Megan flushed. “Thank you for not giving me away. I was afraid I’d gotten too personal. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Maggie smiled. “I believe I do. And I hope things work out for you and Conner. You’re just the woman he needs.”

With a murmur of thanks, Megan squeezed her hand and left. Was Maggie right? Was she really the woman for Conner, or was she just one more in a long succession of girlfriends, to be cast off when someone more exciting showed up—like Lacy?

* * *