Sage shoved the last pillow into the back of the already overstuffed back of her SUV. She wiped her brow, because the end of April in Sweet Water Falls wasn’t exactly cool. In a month, it would be the middle of summer.
She closed the back of her SUV and turned toward the field across the street. The last of the poppies and bluebells had wilted, and Sage thanked God above that she’d been in Texas for one last bloom. She loved the wildflowers in Texas, and she told herself there would be things she’d love about Hilton Head Island too.
She didn’t have a man drawing her there. Bessie didn’t either, but they’d determined they didn’t want to do Supper Club via video anymore. Sage felt like an almost silent member of her Supper Club, but as more of her best friends had started to make the trek
