“Annie!” Juliette said, sweeping me into a perfume-heavy hug. “I hope everything is ready. We’re starving.”
“Almost ready,” I said brightly.
The picnic table looked beautiful. I had set out mason jars filled with wildflowers from my garden, folded cloth napkins, and a pitcher of fresh lemonade glowing in the afternoon sun. It looked like something from a magazine.
Sarah sat down and smiled. “You always make things look so nice.”
Kate glanced around. “Where’s the food?”
“Coming right up,” I said.
I went into the kitchen and returned with my masterpiece.
A tray of cucumber sandwiches.
The crusts were removed. The slices were cut into neat little triangles. Beside them sat a pot of lukewarm black tea.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Juliette stared at the tray as if I had placed a tax bill in front of her.
“Annie,” she said slowly, “where is the barbecue?”
