Ladies' Night, Andrews, Kay [best time to read books .txt] 📗

for us. And she damn sure wouldn’t have been able to reinvent herself like she has without me.”

“Paula reinvented herself?” Suzanne looked puzzled. “How? And what did you have to do with that?”

“Paula is now a certified laughter coach,” Camryn said. “She works with people dealing with depression, terminal illness, and severe emotional problems. I did a feature story on her before I left News Four, and now she’s got her own syndicated radio show.”

“Any news about dear old Stackpole?” Suzanne asked.

“He’s actually been in the news a good bit recently,” Grace said, not bothering to suppress her glee. “The feds raided his new law office and seized all his tax records. My lawyer says the IRS is going after him big-time for falsifying tax records and tax evasion, among other things.”

“That’s one story I would have loved to have been in on,” Camryn said. “What I wouldn’t give to stick a live microphone in his sorry face.”

“Just his face?” Wyatt asked. “And don’t forget, Stackpole still has to deal with the lawsuit filed by that guy who filmed his wife and girlfriend’s hair-pulling match in Sarasota. Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy, huh?”

As they chatted and caught up on each other’s lives, music began to filter into the room. Chairs scraped against the wooden floor as they were cleared out of the way, and guests began to edge onto the makeshift dance floor.

“You hired a DJ?” Suzanne asked, looking around the room.

“Better,” Rochelle said, joining the group. “When Grace was making me clean up the place, I finally got rid of Butch’s old Ms. Pac-Man game. It was broken, and I couldn’t get anybody to fix it. Instead, I found an old jukebox at the flea market and had it restored. I put in all the records he and I used to dance to.”

“And even some music from the last half century,” Wyatt teased.

Grace tugged at his arm. “Okay, enough talk, mister. This is our wedding night, and you are going to dance with me, and that’s final.”

“Gladly,” Wyatt said, leading her into the middle of the cramped floor.

Suzanne looked at Camryn. “Dance?”

“Damn straight,” Camryn said. “But just so you know, I always lead.”

*   *   *

The party was still in full swing at ten o’clock, when the two grizzled barflies known as Miller and Bud approached the Sandbox door. Miller pushed on the door, but it didn’t move.

“Hey,” he said, puzzled. “The lights are on, but it’s locked. What’s up with that?”

Bud pointed to a small hand-lettered note taped to the door.

CLOSED DUE TO PRIVATE PARTY

“They can’t do that to us,” Miller protested. “It’s Sunday night. We always watch the games on Sundays.”

Bud pressed his bulbous pink nose against the glass door and peered inside. “Man! They got all kind of food on the tables, and balloons and decorations and shit, and some kind of fancy pink drinks in martini glasses.”

Miller shoved him aside and took a gander for himself. “They’re dancing!” He turned to Bud in astonishment. “They’re actually dancing in there.” He frowned. “I see a couple guys—there’s an old dude in a suit, and a younger guy dancing with Rochelle’s daughter, and some little kid—hey, the kid is dancing with Rochelle.”

“Lemme see.” Bud elbowed him out of the way. He looked disgusted. “It’s mostly women in there. And they’re not even watching the game.”

“Must be a ladies’ night thing,” Miller concluded sadly as he turned away from the door. “Looks like we’re gonna have to find ourselves someplace new, Bud.”

ALSO BY MARY KAY ANDREWS

Spring Fever

Summer Rental

The Fixer Upper

Deep Dish

Savannah Breeze

Blue Christmas

Hissy Fit

Little Bitty Lies

Savannah Blues

About the Author

MARY KAY ANDREWS is the New York Times bestselling author of Spring Fever, Summer Rental, The Fixer Upper, Deep Dish, Blue Christmas, Savannah Breeze, Hissy Fit, Little Bitty Lies, and Savannah Blues. A former journalist for The Atlanta Journal Constitution, she lives in Atlanta, Georgia.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

LADIES’ NIGHT. Copyright © 2013 by Mary Kay Andrews. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

www.stmartins.com

Cover design by Michael Storrings

Cover photographs: Umbrellas by Herman Estevez; wood paneling © Shutterstock.com

The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:

Andrews, Mary Kay, 1954–

     Ladies’ night / Mary Kay Andrews.—1st ed.

             p. cm.

     ISBN 978-1-250-01967-7 (hardcover)

     ISBN 978-1-250-01965-3 (e-book)

   1.  Divorced women—Fiction.   2.  Friendship—Fiction.   3.  Psychological fiction.   I.  Title.

     PS3570.R587L34 2013

     813'.54—dc23

2013009101

e-ISBN 9781250019653

First Edition: June 2013