Moonrise. Cassandra King

I recognized as Noel’s boomed out of the darkness: “Jesus, Linc—I’m dying here. Speed your ass up, man.”

      Linc’s response was muffled, as though he held his head down, but we heard him say, “Hey, you wanna drive? Be my guest.” When a woman gave a sharp retort that I didn’t hear, Emmet and Tansy exchanged amused glances, and Emmet murmured, “Some things never change, do they?”

      My initial impression of the others, Noel, Linc, Myna, and Kit, was a confused blur because everyone was talking at once when they emerged into the yellow circle of light spilling out from the porch. Pushing his walker, Linc led the way with Noel close behind as if to catch him if he got tripped up. Myna was at Linc’s side, and slightly behind her was a shadowy figure that must be Kit Rutherford. My eyes swept over them rapidly as I sorted out who was who and wondered if their greeting to me would be as unsettling as Tansy’s had been.

      Emmet moved swiftly down the steps to help Noel get Linc onto the porch, pausing first to give Linc and Noel the back-pounding kind of greeting that men give each other, followed by a hug for the two women. Seeing Linc, I understood why Emmet’d been so concerned about him. Hunched over the walker, Linc appeared so frail that I wouldn’t have known he was the same man in the group picture by the waterfall. Since that photo was taken, he’d grown a sparse little beard that, like his hair, was heavily streaked with gray. Although his thin arms were still trembling with the effort of the walk, Linc threw back his head and whooped with laughter when Emmet and Noel picked him up, walker and all, and deposited him on the porch.

      Noel Clements was a stunner, so impossibly good-looking that I had to tear my eyes from him to search out the others. I didn’t exactly recognize Myna from her photo, but knew she was the one climbing the steps while Kit remained in the shadows. Even if I hadn’t seen her picture beforehand, I would’ve picked Myna out as the artsy one of the group. Rail thin with a pale, sharp face, wire-rimmed glasses, and wild, frizzy hair, she had the look. I wasn’t sure what she was wearing, but it appeared to be some sort of coarsely woven dashiki, set off by a bronze cross and dangling earrings much too large for her small frame. Studying her, I understood why she wasn’t particularly liked by the others. Her strangeness set her apart.

      Noel reached me first, wowing me by saying my name softly before bending his fair head to kiss me on the cheek. I flushed and fluttered like a schoolgirl, then took the arm he extended to lead me over to Linc. With a saucy toss of her head, Tansy left my side and headed toward the fireplace. I held out both hands to Linc, who had moved from his walker to sit in a sturdy wicker chair. “Helen!” Grinning, Linc grabbed my hands as though we were long-lost friends. “We meet at last. Please forgive me for not getting up.”

      Linc Varner was a small, fine-boned man; his twinkling eyes, playful expression, and wispy beard made him look like a leprechaun. When he introduced Myna, who was putting away the walker, I turned toward her eagerly. I’d purchased her books and pored over the poetry, which was way too obtuse for me, but I was still anxious to meet a famous poet.

      “This is such an honor, Myna,” I declared as I shook her hand. A huge silver ring on her middle finger jabbed my palm painfully. “I absolutely love your work.”

      There was no mistaking a guffaw from Tansy, and I flushed in response. Standing erect, Myna gave me a tight smile. Behind the wire-rimmed glasses, her pale eyes glittered. “Thank you, Helen,” she said shortly. Her voice was clipped and nasal, definitely not Southern. “Always a pleasure to meet a fan,” she added. “Especially around here.” She glanced around at the others with something like malice.

      As if to diffuse the tension, Noel moved in quickly. With a little bow, he handed Myna a glass of red wine, Linc a beer, and told me that Emmet was bringing mine over himself. Twirling around, Noel pointed a finger at the woman who had silently appeared to stand next to me. “Kit? Pick your poison.”

      “Red’s fine,” she responded in a cool voice, then held out a hand to me. “Hello, Helen. I’m Kit Rutherford.”

      With her hand in mine, Kit and I took each other’s measure. Because she’d been half hidden in the photos, I wasn’t expecting her to be quite so pretty. What a sight she and Rosalyn must have been together! A head taller than me and slender as a model, Kit had light brown hair, olive-hued skin, and hazel eyes. She was simply but stylishly dressed in a crisp white shirt, designer jeans, and sandals with heels, which struck me as the perfect attire for the cool evenings here. I had the sudden, unwelcome thought that Kit would’ve been a more suitable replacement for Rosalyn, her longtime friend and roommate, than someone like me. How had Emmet missed so obvious a match? Kit greeted me by squeezing my hands and saying it was a pleasure to meet me, and I forced those hurtful thoughts out of my mind.

      This time it was Emmet who stepped up to diffuse the awkwardness. He strolled over to me with a white wine seltzer in one hand and his customary martini in the other. I took the wine from him gratefully, hoping no one noticed my hand trembling. Emmet placed an arm around my shoulder as he looked around at his friends, who had ended up in a semicircle around Linc’s chair. They waited expectantly, and I watched them watch my husband. Managing to look both rakish and elegant, Noel leaned against the porch railing with an amused expression on his face and a frosted mug of beer in his hand. Across from him, Tansy held a glass of wine to her full red lips, which were turned up ever so slightly at the corners. Over the rim of the glass, her coal-black eyes were directed at me. Myna’s eyes, on the other hand, darted from one of us to the other, while Kit’s remained remote and unreadable. Only Linc regarded the rest of us with what appeared to be genuine curiosity, oblivious to the tension that had crept into our gathering like the fog from the lake.

      Scowling, Emmet looked down at me in sudden irritation. “Damn! I should’ve gotten champagne, sweetheart. Why didn’t you remind me?”

      Before I could respond, the others chimed in. Linc hooted derisively and said, “Probably because she knows what a cheapskate you are, my man.”

      “Yeah, Emmet,” Noel agreed. “Don’t blame it on Helen.” Turning to me, he added, “The cheap son of a bitch probably planned it this way. He’s the one who went into town for the booze, right? Pretending he was helping you out?”

      “Well, he did, but—” I began when Noel stopped me with a shout of laughter.

      “I knew it!” he cried, then leaned over to click his mug against Linc’s. While Kit and I were greeting each other, I’d been vaguely aware of a small drama playing out next to us. Myna had protested when Noel brought Linc a beer, and I heard Noel say curtly that the doctor had okayed one a day, if she recalled. Surely she wasn’t implying that he’d give Linc anything harmful, he’d added, but I’d missed Myna’s response.

      Emmet turned to me and sighed in exasperation. “Now you see why I didn’t want you to meet my so-called friends, Honeycutt?” The fondness in his voice softened his words, however, and the others laughed good-naturedly. Waving them off, Emmet held his glass high. “Our next get-together, I’ll furnish the finest Moët. For now, we’ll toast with what we have. Helen and I would like to thank each of you for coming over tonight. As you know, she’s been quite anxious to meet everyone.”

      On the other side of me, Tansy murmured, “Beware of what you want. You might get it.”

      “Let me add a toast to the newlyweds,” Noel interjected in a hearty voice, “from all of us.”

      With much clamor and clanking of glass against glass, we toasted old friends and new; Emmet and myself; the new bride (this from Tansy); our upcoming summer together; and at least a dozen other things. After so many refilled wineglasses (without the aid of my usual splash of seltzer), I got rather woozy, but at least the tension had dissipated. Or so I thought. Before another toast could be raised, I spoke up. “Before I get too smashed to remember my manners, please help yourselves to the food.”

      “I cannot wait,” Tansy sang out as she waltzed over to the wicker table. “All Emmet’s talked about is what a great cook you are.”

      Before I could explain that I hadn’t made anything, Tansy had grabbed a plate and started piling it high. “Hey,