“What am I? Chopped liver?” Mrs. Wilson says. “I wouldn’t let Evelyn do anything to hurt herself.”
“I know,” I say, placing the slices of cake on the coffee table between them. “I just worry.”
“Well, I’m right here,” Marmee says. “We opened it so we could enjoy the evening breeze.”
I shut the door and lower the latch. Marmee has never been the type to be satisfied following rules. Lately, she’s suffered from debilitating bouts of vertigo; her entire care team agrees it’s too risky for her to be outside on her own, even if it’s her own balcony. I don’t like the idea of her being tempted.
“How’s your party?” Marmee asks.
“I feel guilty having you cooped up here all night,” I confess, “so I brought you both some cake.”
“You know that’s against her diet,” Mrs. Wilson says.
“It’s only a small piece,” I say.
Marmee laughs. “Another rule breaker. I wonder where she gets it?” She leans forward to grab the napkin and unfurl it on her lap. “A few bites won’t hurt. And you’ll have to give Marlowe my compliments over the lamb. Cooked to absolute perfection.”
“She’s the best.”
“Well, I’m officially off duty for the weekend,” Mrs. Wilson says. She pushes on her knees as she stands. “I’ll be sure to lock up before I head out.”
“You won’t be here in the morning?” I ask. Mrs. Wilson is as crucial to this house as electricity.
“I’m visiting family,” she says, looking at Marmee. “She insisted there would be enough people here to take care of her for the weekend.”
“I’ll be just fine,” Marmee says. “Enjoy your time off. You deserve it.”
Mrs. Wilson bends down to give Marmee a hug before grabbing her slice of cake. She gives me a little wave as she leaves the room.
“Lovely costume,” Marmee says, turning her attention to me, a heavy dose of sarcasm in her voice. “Did you pick it?”
“Ava,” I say, readjusting the damned crow on my shoulder. “It’s absurd, isn’t it?”
“A bit garish, but it’s only for the night. It’s thoughtful your friends wanted to have a party in your honor.”
“I hope the party won’t last much longer,” I say. In our younger years, my friend group was known for partying until the wee hours of the morning, but we’re getting older. Nothing sounds more appealing than an early night in. “You know, I could ask people to leave. Everyone could hail Ubers to take them home.”
“Why on earth would you do that?”
I can’t tell her the truth, which is that the birthday card from Oliver is still on my mind. Or that the petty drama between my friends is getting on my nerves.
“Maybe it would be more fun if it was just the two of us.”
“Your friends have gone through a lot of trouble to be here,” she says. “Appreciate them.”
I walk toward her, bending down to kiss the top of her head. She squeezes my hand, her skin dimpled and cold to the touch.
“Could you do me one favor before leaving?”
“Sure.”
“Pop into the library and select a book. Reading makes it easier for me to sleep.”
“Any particular title?”
“Surprise me. Your taste in books is as great as your taste in movies,” she says. “I’m sure I won’t be disappointed.”
“I’ll try my best,” I say, then exit her bedroom and walk past the cinema to the end of the hall.
