“Bit too generous if you ask me.” Reagan helped Gwen put six bowls of soup on a tray. She squatted down a bit to lift the tray and grunted. “Ugh, haven’t done this in a while. Wish me luck.”

Reagan made her way back to the dining room and placed the tray on the table, distributing three bowls of soup to each woman. “Here we have tomato basil bisque, morel mushroom, and lobster bisque. Please taste each and let me know what you think.” She watched as they each took small spoonfuls.

“No. This one will not do,” Maureen said with a bit of disgust as she pushed away the bowl of morel mushroom soup.

“Okay, that’s off the list,” Reagan replied as she took the bowl from Maureen and put it back on her tray. She reached for Jill’s untouched bowl, and as Jill pushed it toward her, their fingers brushed, calming Reagan instantly. She smiled at Jill before focusing again on Maureen. “What do you think of the others?”

They took a couple more spoonfuls of the last two soups. “Lobster bisque. I want the best of everything at this party.”

Reagan cleared her throat. “Duly noted. Let me take these dishes back and then I’ll bring out the salads.” She gathered the remaining bowls and carried the tray to the kitchen, setting it down on the counter next to the dishwasher.

“So?”

“Lobster bisque is the winner. Presumably because of the higher price tag. Sorry, but she did not like the mushroom soup.”

“Well, the customer isn’t always right,” Gwen grumbled as she tasted a spoonful from the pot still on the stove. “Mmm, still just as good as when I poured it.”

“Of course it is. I think she was set on the lobster from the beginning. Her loss.”

“How is it out there?” Gwen asked as she slid plates of salad on a tray.

“I think it’d be more fun to get my eyes gouged out with an ice pick than deal with this woman.”

Gwen chuckled as Reagan picked up the tray and left the kitchen. With each of the next two courses, Maureen quickly discarded the options she didn’t like with a barely veiled level of disdain, and the tasting was over within an hour. Maureen poured the last of the wine into her glass as Reagan piled the dessert plates onto the tray.

Reagan took out her phone and pulled up her calendar. “We still need to schedule the tour of your home, Mrs. Jacobs.”

“That has already occurred. Do you two not talk to each other?”