she’s vowed to stand over him until he gets in the car. They’ll be here in time for dinner. JB, Thomas, Matt, and Wade are coming, too. Oh, and we invited a few people from high school for the party tomorrow night, along with your work friends Rachel and Fiona. But it’s no more than, like, fifteen or twenty people.” Claire grabbed a glass and poured herself a hefty portion of the white wine.
Ellery didn’t want a ton of people coming. Why would her friends invite a bunch of people? Of course, a bigger group would keep her plenty busy, which meant she might not even run into Evan. Or the sneering, sexy bartender who’d popped into her mind more than she wished. Gage. His name seemed prophetic, like he could see inside her and tell her where she was in her life. Yeah, she knew they were spelled differently, and she’d only met him that once, but still he’d unnerved her with the way he could see her, and not the good part of herself she always presented to everyone else. The part she was ashamed of. The part she tried to hide. “I hope they don’t show. I like it low key.”
“When have you ever wanted fewer than, like, fifty people to come to your parties?” Madison drawled.
“Um, like, tomorrow when I turn twenty-three.” Ellery took a sip of wine that was cold and sharp on her tongue. The finish was mellow and golden. “Sorry. Things just feel so real. I mean, we have jobs and bills and—”
“Jell-O shots,” Claire interrupted, pulling a box of cherry Jell-O from the depths of a grocery bag along with a bottle of vodka.
“You didn’t,” Ellery said. Claire loved to make Jell-O shots . . . or any shots, for that matter. Last Christmas they’d stayed half-drunk the entire holiday on something with RumChata and Fireball.
“Um, yeah, I did. It’s a party, and it’s been, like, forever since we hung out. It’s a miracle the stars lined up and we all got off work. Especially since it was short notice, so we’re going to make like college freshmen and forget about time clocks and performance reports . . . and do shots,” Claire said, looking over at Madison. Mads raised her glass.
Ellery immediately felt like a shit for not being in the spirit. Claire was right. It had been a long time since they had all been together, and they had done this for her. “Okay, bring it.”
“There’s the Ellery we know and love,” Claire said, opening the doors of the cabinets. “I’m going to whip these up, then shower. Your mother said cocktail hour is at five, and I still have one thing I have to do online before I totally surrender myself to booze and bitches.”
“I’m going to take a nap. That shift switch to get off for the weekend is kicking my ass,” Madison said, moving toward the bedroom she was sharing with Claire.
Ellery needed to get pretty before they headed to the distillery and the cocktail bar housed within, but she felt angsty. Like she needed some time to herself. “I think I’ll take a walk and enjoy the foliage. Just breathe some of this nice cool air.”
“Don’t get lost,” Madison said, pointing a finger toward her, her mouth curving with amusement.
Ellery had once gotten lost on a Girl Scout outing. The troop leaders were about to call the police when Ellery wandered back into camp, scratched by brambles and tear streaked from her four-hour-long ordeal. To her credit, she’d been ten, and she’d just watched Friday the 13th at a friend’s house, so she was freaked out and a bit overly dramatic about getting lost. She never went camping again. “I won’t. And if I see a guy in a hockey mask, you’ll hear me. I’ve been practicing that scream since I saw that dumb movie.”
Ellery hurried to the master bedroom she’d share with Josh that night. The big four-poster bed dominated the tastefully decorated room and held her suitcase. After donning running shorts, a jacket, and her trusty Brooks trainers, Ellery slipped out the french doors onto the private patio attached to her bedroom and moved around to the front.
The rental house at One Tree Estates was called Vine House and was built of stone and wood, evoking a European chalet. Perched on the edge of one of the vineyards, it butted up against a young copse of woods, decked out in autumn finery. Rocking chairs