Tani’s house was a perfect example. A small round tower anchored one corner, and a wide porch graced the front of the house and wrapped right around the tower and down the side of the home toward the detached garage—originally a carriage house—in back. The home had been painted a dark blue when Tani bought it. But she and her husband Terry discovered the home was originally painted a bright lavender with turquoise, navy, mint and ivory trim, and she’d restored every one of those colors. Rendezvous Falls had many colorful homes, but Tani’s was definitely in the running for most festive.

Zoey texted her friend before getting out of the car.

Z: I need coffee. And a good listener. And maybe tissues.

T: Where R U?

Z: In your driveway. Got time?

T: Wut? Come in, silly!

Tani and Zoey had become friends while working on the annual elementary school talent show. Tani’s son, Tyson, was the same age as Hazel. The two moms had bonded over their distinct dislike of the ladies on the committee who’d claimed they wanted help from some of the younger moms. Then they sabotaged every idea Tani implemented as new chairperson because it wasn’t the way they’d done it in the past. At one of the meetings, Tani stood up, swept her long, narrow, purple-tipped braids over her shoulder and pointed at the previous chairwoman.

“You’re the one who recruited me, Maryellen. You said the committee needed new ideas. I’m starting to wonder if all you needed was some diversity on the team to rubber-stamp your stale-ass old ideas.” Tani had grabbed up her bag and turned to go. “Find another token.”

At that point Zoey had stood as well, collecting a lot of wide-eyed stares from the other moms. “She’s right. You’re stonewalling her ideas, which hurts our fundraising, which will hurt our kids. And if Tani goes, I go. And so does my dad.”

Rob Hartford had built all the stage sets and props for the school pageants and fairs since Zoey was a student, and they were stored in his barn. Maryellen begrudgingly backed down. Tani promptly named Zoey her vice-chair. There was still a precious group of women who tried interfering with their plans, but Tani and Zoey outwitted them at every turn, and raised more money than Maryellen’s pals ever had.

Just as Zoey reached the top step, the front door opened. Tani was just as colorful as her house was, wearing an orange and blue tribal-print caftan duster over black leggings and camisole. Her headscarf matched the duster—which she’d undoubtedly made herself—and was knotted above her forehead. Her lipstick was dark orange, matching her nails. The woman was a walking fashion magazine spread, even on a weekday morning.