Sherri had forgotten how much fun it was to gossip with Roberta, how she shares information with you in a way that makes you feel chosen.

Roberta leans close and whispers, “He’s impotent. Good thing I got him while the plumbing still worked. We’ve got three strong boys.”

“You always wanted boys.”

“Sometimes things work out,” Roberta says. “Even our marriage falling apart, hard as it was, was a good thing in the end. The way I see it, Trent was just my starter husband.”

“I had one of those, too. Mitch.”

“You mean the guy from California?”

Sherri nods. “We’re good friends now.”

“That’s great.” Roberta clicks her drink against Sherri’s. “Trent and I aren’t exactly friends. But I’ve got to hand it to him: He was good with the boys. He liked to mow the lawn and cut wood and fix shit. Now I’m single, and that’s just fine.”

Roberta tells Sherri about all her boyfriends, most of whom are in the fitness world. Some are Violet’s age. They cook for her, give her back rubs, bring her gifts, take her to Chicago for romantic weekends. “One guy, Dylan,” she says, “I met him at a conference in San Antonio. He flew up here and spent a week with me. The longest week of my life. He’s into tantric sex. I told him I’m too old for that. I just want it to be over. I have things to do.”

Sherri laughs, but in the back of her mind she remembers how she’d been called slut and bimbo, and how those words had reduced her to nothing. It’s nice at their age to be more free of those labels.

Roberta says, “The business is great. This time of year, we take groups out into the park next door for outdoor circuits. Honestly, it feels amazing to tell these three-hundred-pound muscle-heads to do something, and they do it. My son, Brett, he teaches, too. He’s big in the CrossFit world. We go to all the conferences, compete. The industry is like a family, I swear. I love it. Doesn’t even feel like work.”

“I just can’t believe my ears,” Sherri says. “You would have done anything to get out of gym class, and now look at you. You could lift a refrigerator.”

Roberta takes a sip of her drink. “Not to brag, but I can still bench my weight. You work out?”

“Not like you. I take Pilates.”

Roberta laughs. “Listen to us. We’re still on brand. I’m CrossFit, you’re Pilates. Cheers, Sher.”

It’s hard for Sherri to believe she’d been nervous to see Roberta. They can’t talk quickly enough—there is so much to say. They keep interrupting each other in a conversation that is frequently punctuated by the word “remember.”