Lillian wiped her hand across her forehead. “Thanks. You got it from here? I’m going to go get cleaned up.”
“We can handle it,” Stevie assured her. “Sorry about the hot water.” Stevie had blow-dried her hair, and it fell in soft waves around her shoulders. The effect still surprised Morgan, even after years of witnessing this transformation. Tomboi Stevie still reigned as far as her mannerisms were concerned, but the skin-tight jeans and loose white tank top left little to the imagination, and the barest suggestion of mascara graced her lashes.
“Hot date?” asked Morgan.
“Shut up.” Stevie flung a pretzel at her from one of the snack bowls Lillian had arranged. “Out of clothes. I need to do laundry.”
“Uh huh.”
“Speaking of hot dates—”
“If you say ‘speaking of’ one more time I am going to slice out your tongue with a dirty scalpel.”
“Brutal. Okay, fine. What time did you tell our new friend to come over?”
“Same time as everyone else.”
“So we’ll find out if she’s the kind of person who arrives fashionably late, on time, or early. Clever.”
“It doesn’t matter when she gets here.”
“As long as she comes?” Stevie smirked at her own joke. “Let’s get the beer in the fridge, and then Lil wants us to get a fire going in the yard.”
The farm property consisted of seven acres. The barn and the house stood on one, and an old apple orchard took up another. The rest had reverted to meadow and woods. A fence high enough to keep the dogs in closed off a manageable expanse around the back of the house, and a brick patio with a fire pit abutted the back door. Living with her friends and coworkers had its rough spots, but she loved their little piece of heaven.
Angie waited for them in the kitchen with an open beer.
“Hey, birthday girl.” Morgan hugged Angie, who made a face.
“Tell the birthday girl to go shower,” said Lillian, emerging into the kitchen with a glare for Morgan and Stevie. “Not that there is any hot water left.”
“I’m clean.” Angie gestured at her clothes. Dog hair coated every inch of them.
“Go. I want a nice photo of you.”
“You,” said Angie as she beat a retreat, “are worse than my mother.”
“That’s because your mother has to love you. I don’t,” said Lillian.
“Beer?” Morgan handed one to Lillian without waiting for a response.
“Thank you.” Lillian straddled a bar stool and clasped her hands around the bottle. Her damp hair clung to her neck. “What a shit week.”
“Work?” said Stevie.
“Yeah. And Brian.”
“What did Boring Brian do?” Stevie pulled a stack of paper plates down from a cupboard as she spoke.
“He’s not coming for the summer anymore. School stuff.”
“Who takes classes during the summer?”
“No, he’s ABD, but—”
“All But Dead?” Stevie never missed an opportunity to remind Lillian she found her boyfriend dull.
“All but dissertation, dumbass. Apparently he needs to do more fieldwork for said dissertation, so there go the plans we’ve been talking about all year.”