The Bachelorette Party by Carissa Ann Lynch

Author:Carissa Ann Lynch [Lynch, Carissa Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: One More Chapter

Chapter Seventeen

Elizabeth

The mother-in-law

The stress and tension I’d felt for weeks rolled off me like exhaust fumes; my skin felt soft and dewy, my shoulder blades and lower back melty like grass-fed butter. I’d experienced many things in my seventy-five years of life, but I’d never had a massage before.

I didn’t know what I was missing.

I cinched the belt of my robe tighter, head still tingling from the glass of champagne and strawberries the masseuse had offered me during the massage. My stomach rumbled as I made my way through the kitchen and shimmied up to the refrigerator.

There were nearly a dozen unopened bottles of wine tucked in the double doors. I thought twice about it, reaching for a pitcher of a tea, but then I thought: To heck with it! You only live once, Elizabeth. And with the way things are going, you don’t have much time left on this Earth, anyway.

Selecting a chilled bottle of Pinot Noir, I set it on the sleek quartz countertop. Opening drawers and cabinets, I searched aimlessly for a wine opener. Ah. The pantry!

I had the slick, cold bottle in one hand and with the other, I reached for the pantry door. That’s when the door flung open on its own, an eerie white phantom charging toward me.

The bottle slipped from my hand as I stumbled back, shattering on the marble floor. I gasped as the icy cold liquor splashed down my legs.

“Oh, my god. I’m so sorry, Elizabeth! I didn’t mean to give you a fright.” It was that ghoulish girl Tinsley, dressed all in white with that shock of white hair. She dropped to the floor, scrambling to pick up the pieces of jagged glass. I managed to collect myself and rummaged under the sink for a handful of cleaning towels.

“What on earth were you doing hiding in the pantry?” I asked, thrusting the bunch of towels at her.

She grabbed them, juggling the bunch, and gave me a startled look.

“Sorry. I-I was just looking around. I like old houses … and architecture.”

I shook my head, putting a hand to my chest. She truly had given me a fright. For a moment, I’d almost believed that she was some sort of angry poltergeist bursting out of the pantry wall.

“But the door was closed and … and the light’s out in there,” I said, glancing at the open pantry space behind where she was bent down on the floor, wiping up the perfectly good wine and glass shards.

Tinsley glanced back over her shoulder, to where I was looking. Why is she so weird? I wondered, angrily. The tension in my shoulders was back, the desire to drink and be merry all but gone.

“Yeah, I know. I was trying to find the light switch but couldn’t.”

I frowned, watching the girl swirl and swipe, uselessly smearing the mess around on the floor. I thought about how long I’d been standing in the kitchen, thinking about how great I felt. And how long I’d wandered around, looking for that corkscrew.

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