Free The Wildwater Walking Club by Claire Cook Page B

circle.”
    “Can’t wait to pass those cards around,” I said. “I’m sure they’ll do wonders for my social life.”
    Rosie stepped up ahead of us on the sidewalk.
    “If we have to have a name,” I said, “I think we should be The Wildwater Way Women. It sounds more adventurous.”
    “Or even The Wildwater Walking Club,” Tess said. “It’s still adventurous, but it’s got a nice official ring to it.”
    Rosie turned around. “I don’t know. Doesn’t that sound to you like we should be walking on the water?”
    “Not necessarily,” Tess said. “And I don’t think it would hurt to occasionally consider the possibility.”
    “Okay,” Rosie said. “Done.”
    “And done,” I said.
    I raised both hands over my head. “How do we walk?” I yelled.
    “Fast?” Rosie said.
    “No,” I said. “The Wildwater Way!”
    “Cute,” Tess said. “Okay, how do we do everything?”
    “The Wildwater Way!” Rosie and I yelled. A car drove by and beeped. We all waved.
    “Okay,” I said. “Moving on. I looked up my frequent flier miles last night. I have tons, too, and I’m happy to share. I always meant to use them, but I could never find any flights that worked. Plus I hardly ever took my vacation time.”
    “Do you have a boyfriend?” Tess asked.
    “Not anymore,” I said.
    “What happened?” Rosie asked.
    I shrugged. “Who knows.”
    “I’d like to be single again on a part-time basis,” Tess said. “Nothing personal against my husband, at least most of the time. I’d just like to divide my time between being married and single, you know, like maybe have two houses and each be in the same one sometimes and in different ones the rest of the time.”
    “I get that,” Rosie said. “Then when you saw each other, you’d actually see each other.”
    “Yeah,” Tess said. “The scheduling might get complicated though. And by the time you paid the bills on two houses, it’s not like you’d have any money left for dates.”
    I didn’t have any hard data on it, but it seemed to me that married women always pretended to be more bored in their marriages than they actually were in front of their single friends, and in return, single women acted a little bit happier about being single than they were really feeling. I mean, all things being equal, who wouldn’t prefer having somebody to be occasionally bored with? Not that things were ever equal. I caught myself before I sighed out loud.
    “So what I was thinking,” I said, “was that we should go to Provence and see the lavender fields.”
    Rosie dropped back beside me. “Wow, give her a few lavender plants, and she turns into an addict.”
    “I think it would be such a fabulous trip,” I said. “You should see the photos. Rolling hills cloaked in lavender, charming little villages, mountains of great food and wine. And you can even take cooking classes on some of the tours. My mouth was watering looking at the food pictures. The lavender chicken kabobs looked amazing. I wonder how they make them.”
    “It’s so easy,” Rosie said. “You just add some culinary quality lavender buds to an oil-and-vinegar-based marinade. The Munstead I gave you is perfect—it’s a nice, sweet lavender, and it’s never been treated with pesticides. Just remember—a little lavender goes a long way. Too much and it starts to taste like perfume. So sample as you go.”
    “Thanks,” I said. “So, what about Provence?”
    “Provence would be incredible,” Rosie said. “I’ve always wanted to go.”
    Tess moved up in front of us on the sidewalk but half-turned her head so we could hear her. “Can’t do Europe,” she said. “My passport expired. It’ll take too long to get a new one, unless I pay a king’s ransom for expedited service. And I won’t do that, just on principle. It’s such a racket.”
    We took a right at the end of Wildwater Way and turned toward the beach. We walked for a while in silence. It was kind of dank and dreary out, more