"I’m ready to head out too," Reginald said. "I’m no longer in the mood for canapés."
Taylor didn't say anything, but he stood up on the second try. “Nasty business,” he said. “I feel just downright terrible about what happened. I probably broke that poor woman’s ribs.”
“I think she was already dead,” Vivienne said. “When you fell on her.”
That caught all of us off guard. “Dead?” I asked. “They put an oxygen mask on her.”
She shrugged. “She looked dead to me.”
Goosebumps rolled up my arms and I wasn’t sure why other than what the heck, Vivienne?
“Does that mean you’re staying?” Reginald asked her.
At that moment, I appreciated his forthrightness.
“No, I’m ready to leave. The vibe is terrible for filming now.”
"Then we can all leave together," I said. "Let me just find the valet ticket for the van."
We made our way back through the foyer, past clusters of guests who were doing a truly heroic job of pretending the evening hadn't just been derailed. I caught snatches of conversation as we passed.
Was it her heart?
I heard she collapsed mid-sentence.
Do you think the gala insurance covers this?
Covered what? Like worker’s comp? It was a bizarre thing to be curious about.
But if I had learned nothing in the past eleven months it was that people were bizarre.
The valet brought the rental van around and I climbed in, wishing I could kick off my heels and drive barefoot. Nobody spoke much on the ride back to Midnight House. A glance in my rearview mirror showed Reginald staring out the window with his jaw set. Allison typed something into her phone, deleted it, typed it again. Taylor had gone from pale to gray, muttering under his breath about how he'd never fallen on a dying woman before.
Which I think was safe to say, most people hadn’t.
I kept thinking about the straw. About the thin pink line at the corner of Evelyn's mouth. About the word narcan hanging in the humid night air like it belonged there, which it absolutely did not.
It wasn't until I'd pulled into the driveway at Midnight House, cut the engine, and turned to tell everyone we'd arrived, that Vivienne spoke again.
"I got something," she said.
Everyone sat up a little straighter. Even Taylor roused himself.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
Vivienne held up her camera, the little screen glowing faintly in the dark interior of the van, her thumb already hovering over the playback button.
"I mean I was filming the toast. Wide shot, the magnolia tree, the crowd, the whole setup, for atmosphere." Her voice was steady, but there was something underneath it, something careful. "And right before Evelyn started to cough, right before any of this happened, someone reached across the table."
All my guests reacted in various ways.
Allison leaned in closer to Vivienne. “Who?”
Taylor harrumphed. “Poppycock.”
"Reached across the table and did what?" Reginald asked, and he sounded as serious as he had discussing cornices.
Vivienne looked down at the little screen, then back up at the rest of us, her expression caught somewhere between reluctant and electrified.
