Chapter Fourteen
Maci
Thursday mornings belonged to the kitchen. While my neighbors went to yoga, ran errands, or kept their salon appointments, I stayed home. For me, Thursdays meant butter melting in a skillet, flour dusting the counters, and citrus scent filling the air.
I tied on my apron and glanced at the recipe I’d written, resting against the mixer.
"Let's try something different today," I murmured.
Instead of my usual lemon pound cake, I wanted to try something new. I hoped to show the ladies how creative I could be in the kitchen.
I dipped thick slices of buttery brioche in rich custard and cooked them in a hot skillet. The edges turned golden brown while a fresh lemon glaze simmered on the stove. I poured the glaze over the toast, then added powdered sugar, fresh berries, and lemon zest curls.
The smell was heavenly. Bernice walked into the kitchen and immediately stopped.
"My Lord."
I couldn’t help but laugh.
"What?"
"Girl, if you don't stop experimenting, this back of mine gone be wide."
She picked up a fork and took a small bite. Her growing smile told me everything before she even spoke.
"This right here?"
She pointed her fork at me.
"You better make extra."
"I figured the ladies might appreciate a change."
"They're going to tear this up."
"I hope so."
Bernice chuckled and reached for another bite.
"I bet money."
After she left for the dining room, I picked up the worn leather journal beside my phone. Another folded page slipped out. I unfolded it carefully. The handwriting was delicate.
Thursday
Thursday mornings have always been my favorite.
Before the doorbell starts ringing.
Before life reminds us why we need each other.
It's just the two of us in the kitchen.
My baking partner humming off-key while stealing bites before everything has time to cool.
They swear they can't bake, but somehow every Thursday morning still belongs to us.
I hope we never lose this.
Some traditions deserve to outlive the people who start them. I stared at that last line longer than I thought I would. Then I closed the journal and went back to getting food ready for the meeting.
By six that evening, Camille’s house buzzed with conversation. It felt like any other Thursday night. The dining table was loaded with desserts.
I placed my lemon-glazed brioche French toast in the center on a white serving platter.
"I knew that was yours."
Danielle pointed at it as soon as I walked in.
"I can’t wait to taste that. French toast is my favorite."
I laughed out loud.
"I wanted to switch it up."
"You switched it all the way up."
Nia was already grabbing herself a piece.
"This looks bougie."
"It tastes bougie too," Simone added after one bite.
Camille raised her wineglass from across the room.
"I'm beginning to think inviting Maci into this neighborhood was the best decision we've made all year."
Everyone burst out laughing.
"So," Jade said, settling onto the sofa, "how's everybody been?"
The conversation flowed smoothly from person to person. Camille acted as the perfect hostess, topping off her glass. Her cheeks were lightly flushed.
Danielle leaned forward.
"I finally got a call from Detective Warren."
Everyone turned to look at her.
"They ruled Anthony's death a suicide."
A quiet hush fell over the room. I glanced around, noticing everyone’s expressions.
Danielle lowered her eyes.
"I figured they would."
"It doesn't change anything, but at least it's over." Camille reached for the nearest dessert tray. She grabbed a lemon bar, then took another, and then one more.
"Easy on the lemon bars, Camille," Nia teased.
Camille smiled, took another bite, and lifted her wineglass. She caught my eye and smiled again.
"Mari..."
I blinked. The room grew quiet. Camille blinked too.
"Maci." She let out a nervous laugh. "I'm so sorry."
I smiled politely.
"It's okay."
Simone frowned.
"Who's Mari?"
Camille's fingers tightened around her wineglass.
"Oh no, I was trying to say Maci. This wine got me mixing my c’s and r’s."
She forced a laugh. No one asked anything else, just like they always did with her.
Jade quickly changed the subject instead.
"Has anybody thought about the girls' trip yet?"
The conversation picked up again, but Camille kept watching me. She took another bite of her lemon bar. She stopped chewing halfway through. Her hand went to her throat. She swallowed hard, then did it again. Her breathing changed.
"Camille?"
Danielle noticed.
Camille pushed herself halfway out of her chair.
"I..."
She scratched at her neck, frantic. Her face lost all its color.
"My..."
The room erupted.
"Something's wrong!"
"Camille!"
"I can't..." Her voice came out strained. "My EpiPen..." She pointed weakly toward the kitchen. "Drawer."
I was already moving. I ran into the kitchen and then stopped.
I looked slowly around the kitchen. The sounds behind me faded. In the back of my mind, the Jeopardy theme song started playing.
Da... da... da... da... da... da...
My fingers rested lightly against the edge of the counter.
Da... da... da... da...
"Maci!"
Jade's voice pulled me out of my thoughts as she rushed into the kitchen.
"What are you doing?"
"I, uh," I said, blinking. "I couldn't remember which drawer."
She pointed towards the drawer beside the refrigerator.
"There!"
I grabbed the EpiPen and tossed it to her. Jade caught it and hurried back to the living room.
As everyone focused on her, I looked around. There it was, right where I hoped it would be.
I slid the item into my pocket in one quick move and quietly left the kitchen.
Jade gave her the injection. Camille gasped and started to breathe again. The color returned to her face. Someone had already called 911. A few minutes later, flashing lights appeared through the front windows. Paramedics hurried inside.
"I'm allergic..." Camille managed between breaths. "Fish... I'm allergic to fish."
One of the paramedics nodded while checking her vitals.
"Do you think you ate any tonight?"
Camille shook her head.
"No... no..." Her voice trembled with confusion. "I know what I can eat."
The paramedics gathered around Camille, checking her airway while Jade stayed close. Camille struggled to breathe.
"Stay with us. It looks like the EpiPen is working."
One of the paramedics looked around the room.
"Is your husband here?"
Camille shook her head weakly.
"No."
Jade already had her phone out.
"I'll call him."
She held the phone to her ear and frowned.
"No answer."
Danielle tried calling next, but it went to voicemail. Nia tried too, with the same result.
"I don't get it," Jade muttered.
The paramedic glanced toward the front door.
"We're transporting her now. If anyone reaches him, have him meet us at the hospital."
Camille glanced around the room in fear one last time before the stretcher took her out the front door. As the ambulance pulled away, blue and red lights flickered across the walls.
◆◆◆
When I got home, the laughter from Camille's place had faded. The whole neighborhood felt tense and worried now.
I went upstairs without saying much to Zaire. I only paused to tell him I needed to go out.
"It’s a bit late, don’t you think?" he called out from the couch.
"I won't be long."
I could feel him watching me as I left.
"Be careful."
"I always am."
Upstairs, I stood in front of my vanity. Tonight, I didn’t want to look like myself. I used foundation to soften the lines of my face, changed my braids for a dark wig, and put on thin-framed glasses.
I picked a floral perfume I’d never worn before, then slipped into a plain black dress that no one would remember.
When I looked at my reflection one last time, she looked familiar, but not to me.
"Perfect," I whispered.
The bar was full of conversation. A quiet blues song played from speakers I couldn’t see. I picked a stool at the end of the counter and ordered a drink I knew I wouldn’t finish.
Soon, a man took the empty seat next to me. We talked easily, like strangers who knew they wouldn’t see each other again. That made him easy to like.
I smiled when the bartender came back.
"This one's on me."
"You don't have to do that."
"I know."
He thanked me anyway. We clinked our glasses and kept talking. In the middle of a story, I looked away when the bartender called out someone else’s name.
When I turned back, I pushed his new drink toward him and gave him an apologetic smile.
"I think they almost gave this to someone else."
He chuckled.
"Wouldn't want that."
After a few minutes, he began to talk more slowly and rubbed the back of his neck, as if he was getting warm.
"You okay?" I asked.
"Just... tired all of a sudden."
"You should probably head home then."
He frowned, as if something important had just come back to him.
"Damn, my wife..."
He pushed himself carefully from the stool.
"You should go."
"I should."
He set some bills on the bar and walked toward the exit. His steps grew less steady the farther he went.
I watched the door close after him. Only then did I finish the sip I’d been pretending to nurse all night.
Outside, the summer air felt heavy. I took off my glasses, fixed the dark wig, and got into my car.
The woman who had walked into the bar disappeared the moment the engine turned over. I drove away and followed behind.