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After the shock of walking into the house from work and seeing my girlfriends, after the kisses and hellos and a scolding, affectionate look at my husband, I sat at the patio table and was handed a beer and got the details. My silly husband, bless him, knew how I enjoyed my nights with the girls, without our husbands, just chatting and eating things we shouldn’t and laughing at our lives. He had conspired with Mona, my best friend of the group, to get the girls to my house for a night. Mona was endearingly social and outgoing, always had been, and she was the unspoken leader of our group, always the one to make plans, to get us together. She did everything with a grace and enthusiasm that made you want to follow, it was natural for her. You always knew, when were with her, that you had her complete attention and was, for those minutes, the center of her world. She and I had been close since high school, the rest of the girls were friends just as long, but Mona and I were always closer. It was her way. So of course my husband had turned to her for assistance.

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