Free Sunset Bridge by Emilie Richards

him. Then, when it was all over, my partner came strolling around the side of the house. I can still see his grin. In the car he asked how I liked my first encounter with real police work. Then he told me I might as well prepare for more of the same and not wastemy time whining, because nobody was going to believe my version of anything.”
    She paused. “And, of course, he was right. From that point on until I moved over to Miami City, nobody had my back. No matter what went down, I was alone out there, worse than alone, because the people who were supposed to be there for me were out to get me, too.”
    “Things were better in Miami?”
    “I thought so, until recently.”
    “But you stayed in police work after all that. Why would you?” Tracy sounded genuinely perplexed, and Maggie figured her confusion made sense.
    “Even after everything, I still believed I was better than the bad guys. All of them. In the end, as it turns out, they might not be better, but they’re stronger and have better connections. When the investigation Mom told you about was tabled, I was pretty sure I was slated to be taken out of crime suppression and moved to something really important, like community relations again. Wasn’t ready to repeat.”
    “Bummer.”
    “Well said.”
    “So, two of us, looking at our futures, without any real idea what they’re going to hold. I think maybe you and I have a lot in common, Maggie Gray.” Tracy held out her water, as if in toast.
    Maggie toasted her right back, and their glasses clinked.
    Maggie wasn’t sure about a lot of things in her life, but she was sure she had just made a friend.

chapter five
    T he women of Happiness Key met every Thursday evening for dinner, alternating houses so nobody would bear too much of the burden. If grouper was fresh, Wanda grilled and slathered it with lime butter, always careful to have plenty of vegetables for vegetarian Janya, too. On Janya’s night she re-created the succulent dishes of her native Mumbai, and nobody missed meat. When it was her turn, Tracy usually picked up deli salads and fresh rolls. Alice specialized in casseroles filled with rich sauces and tender vegetables.
    Tonight Alice had prepared her special four-cheese macaroni, laden with mushrooms, tomatoes and onions. Except for accepting one of Wanda’s pies for dessert, she had refused all offers of help. No matter where they ate, Wanda’s pies capped the meal.
    They’d begun with a toast to Maggie and welcomed her to their ritual dinner. Now Tracy waited until Alice joined them before she reached for a complicated layered salad served in a cut-glass bowl. She wondered how long the salad had takento prepare, and what she could say to convince Alice that next time, she didn’t have to work so hard. Alice’s age had never been more apparent than tonight. She looked exhausted.
    Tracy passed the bowl to Maggie beside her. Maggie’s hair was down, and she wore a simple scoop-neck blouse of pale gold over faded jeans. She really didn’t look like her mother, but there was a hint of resemblance around her lips, and she definitely had Wanda’s stubborn chin.
    “Alice,” Tracy said, reaching for the casserole. “You worked so hard tonight. Everything looks fabulous.”
    “I like to cook…” She hesitated, as she sometimes did, while she waited for the words to form. “…for all of you.”
    No one rushed Alice. The halting speech was left over from the stroke she had suffered several years ago. The gap had closed considerably, and now it was more like a missing beat or a hiccup, but Tracy was afraid it was going to get worse if Alice kept pushing herself.
    “Why don’t you tell us what you’ve been doing,” Tracy said. “It’s your house, you ought to start.”
    Across the table, Wanda had dished up applesauce, and now the bowl reached Alice, who took some before she spoke again, as if she was too fatigued to do two things at once.
    “Olivia…is very busy, and I’ve been