Emmie dipped the tip of her brush into a glob of cerulean blue acrylic paint on the pallet resting next to her easel. "I can't believe I'm doing this. It's been ages since I picked up a brush."

"Well then, you were overdue." Trisha studied the bowl of fruit on the table in front of her as she slid her own brush over her canvas. "I had a feeling when you first walked into the diner that you were an artist without her art. You need this in your life."

Emmie couldn't disagree. She had felt at home in Moon Beach Collective from the moment she'd set foot inside it just an hour ago. Trisha's friends, Shelly, Ava, and Melody, had greeted Emmie without judgment or scorn. Their careful avoidance of the "Yes Man" topic led Emmie to wonder if Trisha hadn't told them not to bring it up.

Trisha hadn't explained in detail quite what to expect at this get-together. She figured they'd discuss art, talk about what was currently hanging on the walls of the gallery, and eat a good cheese and wine pairing. All of this ended up to be true, in varying degrees, but the main objective seemed to be to get away from their everyday lives for a few hours. Putting paint to canvas was a bonus.

Emmie poured herself a glass of sparkling water and then refilled the rest of the group's glasses with a Pinot Noir from a local winery in the Tualatin Valley.

Shelly noted her drink of choice. "No wine for you?"

"Not when I have to work early the next morning." Quick thinking, there.

The older woman laughed. Shelly had twin fifteen year-old sons and was married to the town's mayor. She ran a consulting business and as Trisha had already noted, she was a bit of a shoe hoarder. "I have to be up early too, but as you can see..." She swirled the wine and took a sip. "I manage to indulge every now and then."

"More like every evening." Ava, a bubbly thirty-something with a tattoo of an ivy vine wrapped around her right arm, chided her friend. "But I understand. Twin teenage boys would drive me to drink heavily too. I can barely keep up with one seven year-old."

"Oh hun, it's not the twins, it's Mervin." Emmie gathered that was Shelly's husband. "Today he called me during a meeting to ask me where the frying pan was. It was literally hanging up right above his head and he couldn't find it. I don't know how he manages to run a whole town when he can't even keep track of where the kitchenware is. Husbands."

"At least yours cooks." Melody, the oldest of the group, set down her paintbrush so she could focus on her drink. "Mine's from that generation that went right from having their mother coddle them to having their wife wait on them hand and foot. Last spring I went to visit my sister in California for two weeks and I thought I might come home to find Albert's decaying corps siting in his Lazy Boy, cold dead hand still wrapped around the remote control."

Emmie smiled. "How did he survive?"

"Ate out twice a day and consumed Moon Beach's entire supply of tortilla chips."

"Oh yes," Trisha nodded. "I remember those weeks. He practically lived at the diner. I gave him a hard time whenever he didn't finish his lettuce garnish."

"He does hate to eat anything green."

The women continued to talk about their families, bitching about their husbands and children who, despite their complaints, they seemed very devoted to. Even though Emmie didn't have a husband and was yet to officially become a mother, she found it soothing to listen to their domestic banter. What a comfort to know people could live normal lives here, free from drama and crazy mob-tied boyfriends and hired hitmen. She could see herself attending these weekly get-togethers until all of them had hair as grey as Melody's. She would discuss her child's progress at school, the instrument he or she would practice, the sports they played.

Her painting took form as she listened and occasionally joined in on the conversation, which slipped from family life to the beach clean-up effort Ava had initiated to the local election coming up the next year. This could be her life: working at Iola's, living a simple existence with her child, helping Ava keep the beaches clean, drinking wine with friends once a week to relax. It didn't seem so bad.

"So..." Ava stood in front of Emmie's canvas, blocking her view of the fruit bowl. "Trisha says you have a new man in your life named Sam but we're not supposed to talk about him for fear that you'll flee the co-op and never return."

"Ava!" Trisha waved her paintbrush in warning. "Shut it."

Emmie's happy life waivered and then crashed down around her. Lies. All of it, lies. Her past, her present, her dreams for the future. None of it was real.

"It's okay, but... everything is pretty uncertain right now. I'd... rather not talk about it. Chances are, it won't go anywhere anyways."

"Oh, don't be so sure." Shelly walked around her easel to stand next to Ava. "I had my doubts about Mervin when I first started dating him, too... and now it's going on eighteen years of wedded bliss."

"Don't scare the girl, Shelly." Melody came around to Shelly's side and the trio were soon joined by Trisha as well. "I'm sure her Sam knows his way around a kitchen. Most young men are better about that these days."

Trisha seemed to sense Emmie's unease. "Let's look to see how you're painting is coming along, Emmie. The women followed Trisha in a line until they were standing behind Emmie. "Wow, I didn't realize how... pronounced the banana was. From my angle, it didn't, um, stand at attention like that."

The other women giggled.

Ava put a hand on Emmie's shoulder. "Your composition is excellent, though."

"Yes? Well, to be honest... I usually work much more abstractly than this, but it's been a while since I drew or painted or did any kind of art, so I thought I would go a little more in the realism direction."

"Realism, eh?" Shelly giggled again. "Well, that explains last week, then."

Trisha nudged her, a stern look on her face. Soon, though, everyone was laughing, including Emmie. It was better than turning beet red or bursting into tears. And if you couldn't joke with your new friends about sex, what was the point of having a weekly night in which you could shake off the stresses of your life, anyways.

"Okay, okay, we've had our fun." Ava patted Emmie again and the women turned their attention back to their art. "If you prefer abstract art, Emmie, then that's what you should do. I'd love to see whatever you produce. Clearly, you have talent."

Now Emmie did blush. "I don't know about that, but it's something I always enjoyed doing. I hope to continue, that is, if you'll let me come back next week." She glanced around the room hopefully.

"What do you mean if we let you come back?" Melody drained the last of the wine from her glass. "Of course you're coming back. No matter what, you're one of us now."

One of us, no matter what. She could only hope that Melody meant it.

A/N: I rather enjoyed meeting some potential new friends for Emmie. Did you like them? They are a fun bunch! Above is the fruit still life they were painting. Emmie must have caught that banana at just the right angle...

Let's see... votes today go to stocking the art co-op with fun objects for the group to paint. I can just imagine Trisha making sure there is a, um... banana-esque item in the still life every week!

Today's dedication is for the fabulous Wattpad Star DistantDreamer who is hosting a winter-themed fantasy anthology this month called Winter's Spell. I was honored to be a part of this anthology. My Christmas sci-fi story, Sleigh Bells on Repeat posted on the 3rd. I'd love it if you hopped over to Monica's page and checked out all of the awesome stories in the collection. If you happen to read mine, please let me know what you think of it! Thank you!