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that long. And here I was …”—she glanced over at Maureen with a look on her face like she’d just been slapped—“so blind that I was actually considering having another baby.”
    Maureen rehearsed their conversation of the night before, trying to remember Emilie’s exact words. “Em, it … this makes no sense. Didn’t you and Ed just discuss this? Recently? Did I misunderstand?”
    “Oh, no, you didn’t misunderstand a thing.” Emilie grabbed the edge of the table with both hands, gripping it so tightly that her knuckles turned white. “He was falling all over himself with apologies about that ‘small but well-meaning indiscretion,’ he called it, this morning. A lapse in judgment. But he was only trying to ‘pacify you, dear Emilie,’ as he so thoughtfully put it.”
    Maureen felt sick to her stomach and leaned down to find a tissue in her purse. Anything to break eye contact with Emilie—and those piercing, accusing eyes. She had no idea what to say now … how to respond. All she could do was glance up from her search to meet Emilie’s gaze momentarily before looking down again. Like a puppet on a string, Emilie followed Maureen’s lead, looking down at her purse too. It was like a bizarre, synchronized dance. And in the midst of that ballet, Maureen could only think, Why is she so intently focusing on me? What am I supposed to say? What does she want me to say?
    “That is just … disgusting. ” Sherry had been married to an apparent charmer who turned out to be a total fraud. He had cheated—not once, but repeatedly. Once she discovered his infidelities, she divorced him without a backward glance and often pointed out that she’d never trust another man again. Not in that way. With narrowed eyes and grim line of her mouth, she slowly shook her head in disdain.
    “It’s also pathetic.” From Vanessa.
    Emilie turned again to Maureen, eyebrows raised.
    “I just don’t know what to … Ed’s always been such a godly … he’s an elder at church. And he’s the head of your home, Emilie, and …”
    “ Maureen. ” Sherry gave Maureen a piercing glare, cutting her off. And then, before anyone could say anything more, a server arrived at their table.
    “Welcome, ladies. I hope you’re all having a great day.” Not waiting for an answer, she chirped, “My name’s Becky and I’ll be your server. What drinks can I get you to start with? May I suggest a nice merlot or maybe a margarita? We’ve got a special going on mango margaritas today, if anyone’s interested?” She appeared totally oblivious to the tension that sat like a grey cloud over the table.
    “I’d like water with a lemon, please,” Sherry answered succinctly.
    “Sparkling water? We have—”
    “Tap water will do fine.”
    “The same for me, please,” from Vanessa.
    “I think I’d like iced tea.” Maureen looked over to Emilie. “Em, isn’t this where we got the peach tea that we both liked so much?” Without waiting for an answer, she continued, “Would you like that too then?” Still no response from Emilie. “Two of those for us, please. Thanks.”
    “Any appetizers today? We have avocado and crab dips with one of our specialty breads?” Her cheerfulness was like a laugh at a funeral.
    Several responses of no before she continued, “Okay then. I’ll be right back with these and then we’ll get your order.” She turned and bounced away, four sets of eyes following.
    “Better look at the menu now,” Sherry suggested.
    Vanessa and Maureen glanced over at Emilie, who merely stared at the closed menu before her. Making no move to open it, she sat completely still.
    After a few moments of awkward silence, Maureen pushed the menu aside and quietly asked, “Emilie, are you going to feel up to eating anything at all? I mean …”
    “Of course she is.” Sherry responded with authority like the professor that she was. “She’s got to eat. And we’re going to make sure she does.”
    “But maybe