Marlowe is the first to reply:Soooo needing this right now. Can’t wait to celebrate you, T.
Constance follows up withVery excited! We finally get to party at Marmee’s mansion!!!
Their forced enthusiasm agitates me. Attending Ava’s party and watching my friends try to hide their pitying looks fills me with embarrassment. The mere thought of people standing around, whispering about whether or not I’m okay, makes me nauseous.
But if I don’t go, it will be even worse.
I have no choice but to stomach this weekend with my friends, convince them that calling off the wedding at the last minute is for the best. Assure them that I’m okay.
Then I’ll fly to Cannes and embark on the next scene in my story, cutting short the life Oliver and I built together, which was never meant to be.
6
Friday: The Night of the Party
The Reading Room isone of my favorites. Most of the space is covered in dark paneling, except the far wall, which is made from floor-to-ceiling glass, connecting the rest of the house to the conservatory. I’m sitting in a comfy velvet chair, flipping through a magazine, waiting for Ava to arrive. Marmee sits across from me, her crow cane at her side.
“Tippi?” A voice rings from the foyer. “Evelyn?”
“In the Reading Room.”
Ava appears around the corner wearing a camel trench coat over white wide-leg trousers. Her hair is styled off her face, kept in place with a silk scarf. She wraps her delicate arms around me, the scent of florals and citrus hovering like a halo. Now that she’s here in the flesh, my apprehension for this weekend begins to subside.
It’s only a weekend with my closest friends. I can get through this.
“I thought you were going to ditch your own party,” she says, squeezing me tighter. “Good thing I have Evelyn on my side.”
It’s frustratingly predictable that she visited the estate without telling me, all to rope Marmee into her plan. Ava is the only daughter ofwealthy divorced parents; she learned long ago how to manipulate and leverage to get her way.
“Lovely to see you, my dear,” Marmee says, leaning against her cane as she stands to greet Ava. She cuts her eyes over to me. “You should be grateful your friends want to throw you a party. It would be unnatural for you not to want to attend.”
Would it? I wonder. I’ve never been a socialite, like Ava or Marmee during her younger years. Fresh off the dissolution of my engagement, I believe it’s completely understandable why I wouldn’t want to celebrate, but Marmee, who always believes in putting on a polished front, is right. It sends a better picture if I’m willing to play along for one more gathering before I take off.
“Is Preston here, too?” I ask, warming up to the idea of a weekend with my closest friends.
“He’s riding in with the rest of the crew,” Ava says. “He can let everyone inside with the gate code, and this way I can get started decorating before they arrive.”
Ava and I follow Marmee as she shuffles to the foyer. She stops at the sideboard by the staircase to smell a bouquet of fresh flowers. My father had them delivered this morning, as is tradition.
“You girls have fun. I’ve arranged for Mrs. Wilson to serve dinner in my bedroom,” she says, gripping the staircase railing for balance. “I’ll be staying there for the rest of the night.”
“You can’t be serious. This is your house!” I say, trailing her as a safeguard as she climbs the steps. “Don’t you want to attend my birthday party?”
“You and I have had plenty of quality time together this week. I want you to spend the evening with your friends. I’m sure I’ll pop my head out in the morning, if I’m feeling like it.”
Marmee and I have enjoyed an idyllic week together. We’ve watched countless movies in the cinema, rearranged books and trinkets on display in the library, and enjoyed pleasant conversation in front of a crackling fire in the evenings. I watch as she enters her wing of the house, knowing it’s useless to argue against her stubbornness.
“Should we help her get settled?” Ava whispers.
“She wouldn’t let us if we tried,” I say, rolling my eyes. We meander down the hallway, in the direction of my bedroom. “So, what’s the plan for the night?”
A wicked smile lights up her face. She loves to hold me in suspense. “Why don’t I show you?” She steers me toward Marmee’s walk-in closet. “Let’s go inside so I can show you your costume.”
My sense of ease evaporates. “Costume?”
“It’s a theme night! I had to get something special for you.”
I tap my fingers against my arm. “What’s the theme?”
