There was a broad staircase leading up to what Melanie assumed were the suites. Melanie ambled past the reception desk and peeked into a sitting room with leather couches and a wide stone fireplace that had no fire in it on this hot night. The view of the lake out the floor-to-ceiling windows was stunning.
“You landed on your feet, Ange,” she muttered to herself. As a decorator, herself, she had to admire what Angelina had done to the place. The last time Melanie was here for a graduation dinner, it was a seventies-themed hunting lodge.
To the right, dark wood French doors opened as Angelina strode through, smiling. Angelina was dressed in a chic wine-colored dress that clung to her to curvy figure. Her blond hair fell in glossy waves over her shoulders. Her makeup was impeccable, and the minute Angelina entered the room, the girl at the desk dropped her book and looked alert. It was clear that Angelina was the boss around here.
“Melanie!”
Melanie couldn’t help but laugh as Angelina wrapped her in a perfume-scented hug, then released her. Angelina nodded toward the French doors. “The ladies are waiting.”
Melanie put a hand on Angelina’s arm. “Which ladies, exactly?”
“The Second Chance Dining Club.”
Melanie blinked. “The what now?”
“We keep our little group quiet, but when we find someone who we think will benefit from what we offer, we invite her to dinner.”
“What do you offer?” Melanie asked, hesitating. If this was going to be some sort of sales pitch, she was leaving now.
“A shoulder to cry on. Some sympathy. Some hard-won wisdom. We’re a group of women who understand,” Angelina said. “We’ve all been married before and we know how hard it is to put your life back together after a divorce.”
“Oh...” Melanie breathed. So much for distraction from her own heartbreak. “Look, if this is a multilevel marketing thing—”
“Hardly!” Angelina laughed. “This isn’t business, Melanie. This is personal. No one is selling anything. And I invited you because... I care.”
Melanie looked past Angelina’s shoulder, but couldn’t make out much.
“You look amazing, by the way,” Angelina said. “It’s just dinner. On me. Be my guest.”
“Thank you.” Did Melanie want to do this? A bit of moral support might be nice, but she probably didn’t know these women, and while a divorce was soul-crushing, it was also incredibly private. Or at least a woman tried to keep it that way with all the nosiness. But she was here, dressed to impress and already at the resort, so she might as well follow.
Angelina led the way into the dining room. There were guests at tables throughout the room. The murmur of conversation, the tinkle of cutlery and the laughter of a family group mingled together in a pleasant ambience. Over by a window overlooking the water was a table of women, all of whom had looked up when Angelina and Melanie walked in.
Angelina beelined over to that table, and she gestured to a free chair right beside the window. It was the best view—and also the hardest escape. Was that the plan?
Melanie took her seat and looked around the table, feeling suddenly shy.
“Hello,” she said.
“This is Melanie Banks,” Angelina said, taking the seat next to Melanie. “At this table, we go by our maiden names. It’s just our thing. It reminds us of who we were before the wedding. It helps.”
Yes...before the wedding. Except Melanie didn’t want to go back to those inexperienced days. Was she the only one?
“Let’s do a few introductions,” Angelina said. “This is Gayle Steel—” She gestured to the older woman with her hair twisted up in a smooth silvery updo. Melanie thought it was prematurely white. “She’s retired, but she used to run the Mountain Springs Bank. She has five grown children and...how many grandkids now, Gayle?”
“Eleven,” Gayle said.
“Her husband left her after thirty-five years of marriage,” Angelina added.
“For his golfing buddy,” Gayle said with a small smile.
“Oh, wow...” Melanie murmured, trying to cover her surprise.
“It was ten years ago. Yes, I should have noticed he was gay, but somehow didn’t. I’m over it. Mostly,” Gayle said with low laugh. “This group of ladies is a great help.”
Yes, well, Melanie had a few things she should have noticed, too—namely a rather serious affair that had been going on for about two years before she found the incriminating text messages. So, who was she to judge?
“And this is Renata Spivovitch, and she’s an activities director and nurse for the Spruce Ridge Retirement Home, and she has three kids, all in school now,” Angelina went on, gesturing to the woman with short cropped brown hair, a round figure and an interesting face. She looked to be about Melanie’s age and met her inquiring gaze with an easy smile.
“I was the one who left my husband,” Renata said. “He wanted to move his mistress into our family home with me and the kids, and figured we should all live together quite comfortably.”
Melanie stared at her in shock. “He...he actually tried to do that?”
Renata shrugged in reply.
“That was...a year ago now?” Angelina asked.
“About that,” Renata confirmed. “I’m less over it than Gayle is.”
Gayle chuckled, and the women exchanged a smile.
Angelina gestured to the stunningly beautiful woman with rare looks and a frank expression on her face. She couldn’t be more than thirty. “And this here is Belle Villeneuve. She’s was a model for about ten years, and married her talent agent.”
A model. Yes, that explained those perfectly aligned looks, but there was something open and friendly about her, too. Melanie couldn’t help but like her.
“He dumped me when I quit modeling and put on some healthy weight,” Belle said. “He called me obese and replaced me with an eighteen-year-old.”
“I’m so sorry—” Melanie said.
“Oh, it was good riddance. I was a
