“Happy birthday,” he says, smiling.
“How did you know it was my birthday?”
“You’re Tippi, right?” He looks me up and down. “I can tell from your costume.The Birds.”
I nod, forcing myself to smile. Oliver’s card is making me jumpy. Paranoid. Or maybe it’s the fact that Damien looks so familiar.
He raises his arm for a handshake, my attention immediately drawn to the gorgeous gold Rolex on his wrist. I meet him with a firm grip, and his calloused hands chafe against my palm.
“If everyone will make their way to the dining room,” Marlowe says, “I’ll begin serving the meal.”
Damien follows her into the next room, a hungry Preston right behind them.
“Unbelievable,” Ava says, under her breath.
Constance crosses her arms. “Marlowe never mentioned anyone was coming?”
“I never even knew she had a boyfriend,” Ava replies, wounded she was left out of the gossip. Constance is the one in our friend group who leaps from boyfriend to boyfriend, never being with one long enough for me to remember his name. Marlowe recently divorced Michael, herlongtime partner. I didn’t realize she’d started dating. Of course, I’ve pushed her and everyone else away in recent weeks. There’s no telling what crucial details might have slipped through the cracks.
“He brought a duffel bag. I guess he’s staying the rest of the weekend?” Ava rolls her eyes. “Marlowe is always doing whatever she wants. The least she could have done was give me a heads-up.”
“It will be fine,” I say, sensing the tension between Ava and Marlowe isn’t quite resolved after all. “Let’s eat.”
10
The dining room isjust as beautiful as the rest of the house.
The bottom half of the walls are covered by dark wooden panels, the same rich chocolate color as the floors, making the transition appear seamless. Floral wallpaper, tiny salmon- and lemon-colored buds sprawling out from wild emerald vines. As a child, I used to look at this design and imagine being trapped in the woods, the brambles and branches wrapping around my limbs like knuckles. And yet, I always felt a sense of peace within this house, the beauty and darkness it seemed to represent.
There are some noticeable differences to the décor, all thanks to Ava. The table is dressed in a deep red tablecloth lined with gold trim, which reminds me of a red carpet you might see at a film premiere. An assortment of Marmee’s antique bowls and vases sits at the center of the table housing delicate flowers, likely clipped from the conservatory, and candles. The whole presentation is dark and romantic and lavish.
“You’ve outdone yourself, Ava.”
“It’s perfect,” Constance says, struggling to slide the thick woodenchair from beneath the table. “You did all this by yourself in a couple of hours?”
“Preston was a big help, of course,” Ava says. “And Mrs. Wilson.”
“Save the compliments for my wife,” Preston says. “She only needed me for some heavy lifting.”
“And there’s one more detail,” Ava says, her tulle skirt billowing as she walks over to the far wall and dims the lights. She fiddles with something on a table. A beam of light extends across the room. It’s a projector. Images spring to life on the opposite wall.
“What is this?” Constance asks.
“We can’t have a movie-themed party without actual movies,” Ava says. “It’s the perfect backdrop for our dinner.”
Crows caw and screech, their cries a menacing crescendo, signaling the beginning of the movie. Flapping feathers and crooked talons blur past. It’s the opening scene toThe Birds.
“Lovely,” Marlowe says, a look of discomfort on her face as she watches the scene unfold.
“Oh, hush.” Ava smooths her skirt as she sits at the head of the table. “Tonight is all about Tippi, and there’s nothing she loves more than Hitchcock.”
My anxieties from earlier in the night scatter. The birthday card had me on edge, and the fact that Constance saw it, but in this moment, I’m humbled by the effort everyone has put into making tonight special, the ridiculous costumes we’re wearing included. Having the leads fromThe Birds,Midsommar,Rosemary’s Baby,American Psycho,andRear Windowall in the same room sounds like the start of a corny joke. Regardless, I’m grateful for every person here.
Almost every person.
Damien, dressed as Jack fromThe Shining,sits across from me. I watch as he looks around the dining room, admiring the same pieces of art and decoration that used to entertain me as a child.
It could have been someone else at the door,whispers a small voice inside, my thoughts fixating on the card inside my pocket.
