"Annie!" Juliette swept me into a hug that smelled like expensive perfume and entitlement. "I hope you've got everything ready. We're absolutely starving!"
"Almost ready," I said, my smile so sweet it could have caused diabetes.
I set the picnic table beautifully with mason jars filled with wildflowers from my garden, cloth napkins folded just so, and a pitcher of fresh lemonade catching the afternoon sun. It looked magazine-perfect, which was exactly what I was going for.
"Oh, how lovely!" Sarah exclaimed, settling into her chair. "You always do such a nice job with these things."
"Where's the food?" Kate asked, glancing around expectantly.
"Coming right up!" I said, disappearing into the kitchen.
I emerged with a tray of cucumber sandwiches. The crusts were surgically removed and sliced into triangles so delicate they looked like they'd apologize for existing. Alongside them sat a pot of black tea, lukewarm and sulking like a spinster aunt left off the wedding invite list.
The silence that followed was so complete I could hear a neighbor's dog barking three houses away.
Juliette blinked slowly, like a computer trying to process an error message. "Um... where's the barbecue, dear?"
I tilted my head, channeling every ounce of Southern charm I'd ever witnessed. "Oh, I didn't shop this time. Since you all love our barbecue so much, I figured you'd want to bring the meat yourselves!"
