“It sure is fabulous,” Daisy agreed, eyeing my cake plate. “I need to get me one of those.”

But Martha’s eyes narrowed, as in went squinty. I knew what that meant. So instead of thanking Daisy, I kept my focus on Martha.

“It’s empty,” she pointed out.

I looked at the cake plate, then at her.

“Yeah,” I agreed unnecessarily.

She glared at me.

What on earth?

“Martha—” I started.

She cut me off to say, “We’re going shopping, and after, we’re hitting Club. We dropped by to see if you wanna go.”

No way in hell. Not that I didn’t want to spend time with her but I was shopped out. Buying presents for Brock, his boys, his family, and my personal list had beat even me, a seasoned shopper dedicated to remaining as such. I had vowed to myself (and shared with Brock, who not only approved, he also laughed his ass off when I shared it), that I had sworn off malls until March.

Therefore, I had to find a kickass nightie for his Valentine’s present online (for I might have sworn off malls but I figured online shopping didn’t count).

“I’ve sworn off malls,” I announced, saw Martha’s eyes get big, and heard Elvira and Daisy suck in shocked breaths. “Christmas did me in. The bakery was crazed and having to buy presents for Brock, his boys, his family, you, all my employees, Mom, my sis, and—”

“I know your network has expanded, Tess, I know,” Martha cut me off to say.

Oh man.

There it was.

“Martha—”

“I also know my Tess never but never has an empty cake stand at her house. And my Tess could shop until she dropped as evidenced by you getting up with me at five o’clock in the morning when that traveling, discount designer shoe emporium opened up their tent at the flea market and we stood in line for four hours to get in and we tried on every single pair of shoes in our size even if we didn’t like them just in case they looked hot on when they didn’t in the box. And my Tess could get busy at the bakery but she’d pry herself away to meet for a quick lunch or pop by for a glass of wine or be home occasionally so I could pop by her place.”

“I went to that emporium,” Daisy whispered to Shirleen. “Found me three pairs of boots. Three. It was hot.”

“Mm-hmm,” Shirleen muttered back, not tearing her eyes off the action.

I said to my friend, “Martha, honey—”

She threw up her hands. “But oh no, not you. Not the new Tess. Brock’s Tess. Brock’s Tess barely has time to return a text because she’s busy with him, his boys, his family, staying over at his house, having his fancy-ass new truck in front of hers—”