“Sorry I’m late. Shoe sale at Ferragamo. So many slingbacks, so little time.”

She grabbed a margarita, tossed the paper umbrella aside, and practically inhaled it in one gulp.

“Jaine,” Pam said, “this is Ashley, our resident shopaholic.”

“Pleased to meet you, hon.” She kicked off her shoes and grinned. “Pam says you’re our kind of people.”

I smiled what I hoped was an our-kind-of-people smile.

“Where’s Rochelle?” she asked, looking around the room.

“In the kitchen,” Pam said. “As usual.”

“Rochelle!” Ashley shouted. “Get your fanny out here! You can’t stay in the kitchen all night!”

“I’m coming,” Rochelle called from the kitchen.

Seconds later, she came bustling out with a bowl of the most delicious-looking guacamole I’d ever seen, studded with giant chunks of avocado. Between the macadamia nuts and the avocado, I’d just died and gone to calorie heaven.

“I hope it’s not too spicy,” Rochelle said, her brow furrowed with concern.

“It’s never too spicy, Rochelle,” Colin said. “It’s always wonderful.”

She set the bowl down on the coffee table and we all attacked it, swooping down with our chips like vultures.

“It’s divine,” I said. And it was.

“You sure it’s not too spicy?”

“No, it’s not spicy at all.”

“Is it spicy enough?”

“Rochelle, it’s great!” Pam said. “Now sit down and have a margarita and stop obsessing.”

“Wait. I’ve got to get the empanadas.”

Before I knew it, she was trotting out from the kitchen with a platter of homemade empanadas, cooked to flaky perfection. Each one sporting a miniature Mexican flag.

“I hope they’re not soggy,” Rochelle said, with a frown.

“Rochelle!” Pam forced her down onto the sofa and handed her a margarita.

“Drink,” she commanded.

Rochelle took a sip.

“Now relax and get tootled like the rest of us.”

“Somebody pass the empanadas!” Doris said. “Let’s dig in.”

“Aren’t we going to wait for Marybeth?” Rochelle asked.

“Don’t be silly,” Colin said. “That could take forever. You know how she likes to make a grand entrance.” He turned to me to explain. “Marybeth always waits till she’s sure everybody’s here and then comes bursting in with some ‘yummy news.’”

“Is that how she describes it? Yummy news?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Pam rolled her eyes. “Marybeth is the most relentlessly perky person I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah,” Colin said. “Like Shirley Temple on uppers.”

“It’s true,” Ashley said, reaching for another margarita. “I think she’s mainlining antidepressants.”

“She’s always giving us lectures about how we’re supposed to look on the bright side,” Pam said. “If she tells me to look on the bright side one more time, I’m gonna shove my Mexican flag up her wazoo.”