She was clicking out of her online bank account when her phone rang.

“So are you coming over now that the masses have left?”

Dakota always made her smile.

“You sound awake.”

“Leo slept for four hours last night, and I had a solid two hours this afternoon. Who knew sleep would be my crack?”

“All right. Give me five minutes.”

“I have wine.”

“Okay, two.”

Dakota laughed and hung up.

The plumbers had taped up the area they were going to work from floor to ceiling. A plastic zipper was a walk-through barrier from the front door to the rest of the condo. After making sure the front door was locked, Mary went ahead and used the garage as her entry.

There was music drifting from Dakota and Walt’s place, and laughter when she let herself in after one knock.

“We’re back here.”

Dakota sat at the kitchen counter, her foot elevated on a stool beside her . . . Walt moved around the kitchen assembling food.

“I hope you’re hungry,” Dakota said. “My mother cooks for a village.”

“I could eat.” Mary glanced around the room to see Leo sleeping in the same place he was the last time she was there. “Does he ever wake up?”

Both Dakota and Walt laughed. “All night long,” Walt said.

She detoured to Leo and watched him sleep for a minute. “He is beautiful.”

“He is, right? Not just . . . you have to say it because you’re my best friend.”

“No.” His cherub face and tiny pink lips with a tuft of dark hair. And so itty-bitty it was hard not to get caught up in him. “He’s lovely.”

“How about some wine?” Walt asked.

“I’d love some.” Mary placed the keys and the remote to her garage on the coffee table and turned to the kitchen. “Can I help with anything?”

Walt motioned to the stack of raw salad greens on the counter. “Knock yourself out.”

Mary moved to the sink and turned to Dakota.

Then her eyes dropped. “Holy cow! When did that happen?”

Dakota glanced down at her chest and giggled. “My milk came in.”

Boy did it. Mary had always been a tad envious of her friend’s boobs, but now . . . wow!

“Do they hurt?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

Walt laughed from the stove. “I like ’em.”

“Such a man.”

They talked about boobs while Mary prepared a salad.

“Enough about my rack,” Dakota cut the conversation off. “I wanna hear about Glen.”

Walt turned off the flame on the stovetop and asked, “What’s up with Glen?”

Mary glanced at her friend. “You didn’t tell him?”

“Wasn’t my place.”

“Well?” Walt asked again.

A measure of surprise that Dakota hadn’t spoken with Walt about the date actually made Mary happy. They could still keep secrets . . . though this one wasn’t meant to be one . . . even though her BFF was married to the love of her life.

“I have a date with Glen tomorrow night.”

Walt nodded at the information. “I guess that’s a long time coming.”

“Where’s he taking you?” Dakota asked.

“I have no idea. I didn’t ask.”

“Hmm, well . . . the fact he’s flying in from the East Coast to see you means he’ll figure out someplace nice.”

“When you say it like that it seems so stupid.”

“Say it like what?”

“He’s flying in . . . I said yes to a date with someone who lives in a time zone three hours from my own. That’s crazy.”

“It’s romantic. I would never have thought of a plot like that.”

Mary watched as Dakota glanced at the ceiling and smiled. “Oh, no. I know that look.”

“Brilliant idea. You’ve heard of the May-December romance . . . how about the East-West romance?”

“I thought you were taking the year off,” Walt chided.

“I can’t keep down a stellar idea for a novel, Walt. It’s not how it works.”

He removed a pan of something casserole-ish from the oven as he spoke. “Then jot it down and return to it later.”

Dakota glanced around, found a pen, and waved it toward the coffee table.

Mary saw the notepad in question and brought it over. “So what are you going to wear?” Dakota asked.

“On my date?”

Dakota rolled her eyes as she kept writing. “No, to bed. Yes on your date!”

“He suggested a dress.”

“Nothing floral.” Dakota waved the end of her pen in Mary’s direction. “I know you have two perfect little black dresses.”

Power dresses, as Dakota had called them when they’d gone shopping the last time they were in New York.

“Not that I don’t love women’s fashion and hate to change the subject . . . but why are the plumbers always at your house?” Walt asked.

While they ate dinner, Mary explained her plumbing dilemma and the money it would cost to fix it. “I guess it’s time for me to put in those wood floors I’ve been threatening to do since I moved in.”

“Yeah, if the insurance company is going to help with the cost, you might as well get something shiny for all your trouble.”

Dakota glanced around her kitchen and into the living space. Her place had come with hardwood floors, only the honey oak color wasn’t something any of them were excited about. “I’d switch these out if it would make a difference on resale.”