Free Firefly Summer by Nan Rossiter Page B

store.”
    â€œBirdie’s package store?”
    Piper laughed. “Yes, that cute new French owner tried to talk me into something else, but when I saw this label, I knew I had to get it. I don’t know how it tastes, but I’m easily swayed by labels.” She eyed Birdie’s ankle. “How’re you doing?”
    â€œI’m doing . . . but I’ll be doing a lot better after your sister gets that bottle open.”
    Piper looked over and realized Sailor had broken the cork. “What the heck are you doing, girl?” she teased.
    â€œI’m a beginner . . . obviously! ” Sailor said, laughing.
    Piper reached for the corkscrew and Sailor stepped back. “Oh my, look at that bruschetta! Where’d you get the recipe?”
    Piper glanced over her shoulder. “Allrecipes.com.”
    â€œI love that site,” Sailor said. She offered the plate to Birdie and Remy. “Did you see Remy’s pie?!” she asked, nodding over her shoulder.
    Birdie sat up to see. “Is that rhubarb?” she asked in happy surprise.
    â€œIt is,” Remy confirmed.
    â€œLook at that fancy latticework,” Piper said, handing a glass of the red wine to Birdie and admiring the pie. “We should take a picture and send it in to a magazine!”
    Remy smiled. Her sisters’ enthusiastic compliments made all the trouble—even going out the third time to get sugar—worth it!
    â€œI can’t remember the last time I had rhubarb pie,” Birdie mused, taking a sip of her wine and immediately feeling the strain of the day exit her body like an evil spirit. “Mmm, this is good,” she said. “You should try it.”
    Piper took a small sip and nodded. Then she looked at the bottle. “I’ve never had malbec.”
    â€œYou can have a glass,” Birdie offered, but Piper knew Birdie was a tad possessive of her wine and declined.
    â€œNo, thanks, I think I’ll just stick to white tonight—it is summer, after all.”
    â€œIt is indeed!” Birdie said, smiling.
    Sailor handed glasses to Remy and Piper, and Birdie held up her glass in toast. “To Sailor’s new home!”
    â€œTo Sailor’s lovely new home,” Remy corrected.
    They clinked their glasses and Piper added, “And to finally getting her to move out here!”
    â€œHear, hear!” Sailor said, laughing and taking a sip.
    She put her glass down, uncovered the dip she’d made, and pulled open a bag of tortilla chips. “Want to sit on the deck?”
    With everyone carrying a dish, they went outside. “Where’d all this outdoor furniture come from?” Piper asked, setting the plates on the table.
    â€œThe previous owner left it, even the grill. I think he must’ve rented the house out to people. There were some plates and pots and pans in the kitchen, too.”
    â€œHow come he sold it?” Remy asked.
    â€œHe died.”
    â€œOh,” Remy said softly.
    â€œHappens to the best of us,” Birdie said, her voice edged with sarcasm. She paused. “So, ladies, I have a tidbit for you, but you have to promise not to tell anyone.”
    Sailor looked up from scooping dip. “Oo-oo! Promise not to tells are the best kind of secrets.”
    â€œWell, it’s not that big a deal. It’s just that I was sworn to secrecy.”
    â€œDo tell,” Piper pressed.
    â€œDr. Sanders is retiring! ”
    â€œOh, no!” Remy groaned. “Who are we going to go to?”
    â€œHe’s hiring some young new whippersnapper to take his place.”
    Sailor shook her head. “I hate changing doctors. So much so, I’ve even driven out here from Boston just to get my thyroid prescription refilled. It’s bad enough we have to go to a doctor at all, but to have to start all over with someone new.” She shook her head. “Did he say when?”
    â€œOctober. But you can’t tell anyone . . .