“Bull. I’m a port in a storm. That’s what we’re for. Girlfriends. To help one another. And I have the space,” Allie protests. She waves her hand as though to sweep Taylor’s dependency away. Anyone would do this, her gesture says.

“I’ve been there. Couldn’t have managed without Charlene when we were single moms and our kids were little. You pull together and get through it,” I say.

Taylor continues, “Tracy helped, too, and Silver loaned us his truck for the move. Then right before she left, Tracy and I went shopping for the containers and she paid for them. Allie bought the groceries so I could make these cookies. And helped make the cookies.” She grins at Allie.

“That was the fun part,” Allie says.

“How come you didn’t tell us?” I ask.

“This all just happened last week. And then I knew I wanted to tell everyone myself. Tonight. Here. Allie’s keeping us from being, I don’t know, homeless, I guess, but she and Tracy made it possible for me to be here.” A gentle smile, tender and tentative, spreads over her face. “And it is so good to be here. This is food for my soul. Healing just being here. I love you all so much. This is one thing I didn’t want to lose.” Taylor reaches in her sack and brings out cheerful star-shaped boxes with Santa spreading across the lid and reindeer prancing along the sides. “Here they are.” She gives the first box to Sissy, who passes it around.

“The cookie has three different types of ginger—fresh, powdered, and crystallized. I love that juxtaposition of spicy and sweet in crystallized ginger, so each flavor is crisp and exaggerates the other. But this year, with all the love that Allie and Tracy showed me, and Marnie trying to help me get a job, and all that love and caring from my girlfriends.” Her eyes fill so she has to stop to wipe her cheeks. “Well, you’re the sugar in the spice I’ve just been handed.”

Silence lasts for several moments.

We each absorb her words.

“That’s so touching,” Jeannie says.

And then Taylor says, “My girlfriends. I love you all. And what would I do without you?” She hands off her final box. “That’s why I wanted to go last. Because … I needed to be fortified by your love”—she raises her glass of white wine and chuckles—“to tell you what’s been going on, but mostly how much I love this party and what it means to me … and how much you mean to me. And it’s almost like, well, you saved our lives.” She pushes her lips together, eyes wide as though she’s said more than she’s wanted and plops down.

“What would we do without one another?” It was a statement, not a question. Each of us knew the answer for herself.