“You can’t mean that.”
Ava can be challenging. She shows love in unconventional ways, this party being a prime example. Her methods can appear selfish, but her intentions are pure. I sense Marlowe is holding back something, and I don’t understand why.
“If the last couple years have taught me anything, it’s that sometimes parting ways is for the best.” Marlowe tenses her lips, stopping herself from speaking further. “People change, Tippi. You should know that better than anyone.”
I’m taken aback. I wonder if she’s talking about me or Oliver. But when I think about my friends with me tonight, though I can’t imagine intentionally cutting any of them out of my life, I know I have pushed them away for Oliver. Even now, I’m masking my pain, only offering up a fraction of the story.
I never should have let him come between us.
12
The cake is delicious.
Creamy, smooth icing dusted with sugar, a spongy center bright and bursting with lemon zest. Marlowe is almost a better baker than she is a chef. I savor each bite as my friends stand and sing “Happy Birthday,” the menacing attic scene inThe Birdsrolling along the back wall. Everyone eats their cake in silence, eyes glued to the final frames of the film. Once the credits begin, Ava stands at the head of the table.
“For the next movie, we’ll venture to the cinema,” she announces. “Feel free to relax and enjoy the film. Evelyn has also permitted us to explore the various rooms of the house. It’s absolutely stunning.”
It makes me uncomfortable giving the guests free rein in the house. I forget Marmee used to host fabulous parties here in her youth, and probably delights in her home being on display once more.
Our group treks upstairs, one after the other. My heart still flutters each time I enter this room, see its massive screen and iconic posters.
Damien pauses to admire my book cover, newly framed and on display. “What’s this?”
“Something I published earlier this year,” I say.
“You wrote a book?” He acts surprised.
“Yes, and it’s absolutely fantastic,” Marlowe says. “Riddled with cinema history.”
“It must have cost a fortune to build a theater inside a house this old,” he says, admiring the gilded frames around the posters.
“The sentimental value is priceless,” I say. “My love of movies started here.”
Marlowe and Damien settle into recliners in front of the massive screen. Preston and Constance meander over to the snack bar to retrieve red-and-white-striped containers of buttery gold popcorn. Ava places the remainder of the cake beside them alongside paper plates in the shape of movie reels.
“You’ve really outdone yourself,” Constance says.
“You can’t have a movie without snacks.” Ava beams before she starts fiddling with the projector.
“What’s the second movie?” I ask.
“Psycho,” she says. “Is that too predictable?”
“I think it’s perfect,” I say, reaching for two plates, “but I am going to give Marmee some dessert before it gets too late.”
“Sure. We’ll be wandering around.” Ava winks, hooking her arm into Preston’s. “There might be a few more surprises up my sleeve.”
After dinner, dessert, and a second movie, there can’t be much left on Ava’s itinerary. I flick off the lights just as the opening credits fill the screen.
Marmee’s wing of the house looks no different than it did when I was a child. There’s the same delicate gray and olive green wallpaper trimmed with dark wainscoting. Heavy rugs in colorful patterns dress the floors. Like all the bedrooms on the second floor, Marmee’s has a small balcony overlooking the crow fountain below. As I enter the room, I see the door is open, an evening breeze blowing back the lace curtains covering the windows.
I approach the balcony, assuming Marmee has gone outside, when her voice startles me from behind.
“Shouldn’t you be with your friends?”
I turn to find Marmee sitting in one of her armchairs. Mrs. Wilson sits across from her. The two look as though they were deep in conversation.
“Why is the balcony door open?” I ask Marmee. “The doctor said you shouldn’t be out there alone.”
