Chapter 5: Sunday Brunch

Joss hosted brunch every first Sunday of the month, and every first Sunday for three years, I had been the one who brought the fruit.

This time I brought a printed sheet and my sister.

"Ring it," Megan said, on the landing outside Joss's door.

I rang it.

Joss opened the door in a cream sweater, with a mimosa in one hand and her hair done.

For one second her smile slipped.

Then it came back, brighter than before.

"Carys! You came! Everyone, Carys is here!"

Nine people sat in her living room with plates on their knees.

I knew all of them. Friends from college, a couple from Joss's gym, a girl who had come on the Nashville trip and spent four days on her phone.

Jared sat on the arm of the couch, next to the spot where Joss had been standing.

He did not look at me.

"I'm so glad," Joss said, and took my elbow. "Let me get you a plate."

"I'm not staying to eat."

"Okay. Sit. Talk. We can all talk."

"I'd rather stand."

I took the paper out of my bag.

"I'm collecting what I'm owed," I said. "I paid for six of you on the trips, and nobody paid me back. Most of you probably forgot."

Nobody moved.

"Nashville, one hundred and ninety. Savannah, three hundred and forty. The cabin deposit, two hundred and twelve."

I read the names off the sheet, one at a time, and each person looked up.

A woman near the window put her plate down.

"Oh my God," she said. "Carys, I thought Joss squared that with you."

"No."

"She told me she'd handle it."

She took out her phone.

"I'm sending it now. I'm so sorry."

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