Considering the last time I saw Liz, she’d been holding a knife, I couldn’t imagine what she had planned. Our sanctuaries were about to become her playgrounds.

CHAPTER
30

Hope you all like blood.” Tony held out a bright orange cocktail as Mark and I walked through the door of Melissa’s house. He chuckled to himself. “Blood orange cocktails, that is. The drink has freshly squeezed blood orange juice, small-batch bourbon, simple syrup, and lemon and lime juices. Garnished with a Wisconsin-made maraschino cherry, of course. I found them at a specialty farmer’s market.” He looked expectantly at me as I took the drink from the engraved sterling silver tray.

I nervously glanced out the front window, afraid Liz was going to appear. Even though everyone had denied inviting them, she knew. And I had no idea what she had planned next for us.

Tony stared at me, so I took a slight sip of the drink. It was cloyingly sweet and reminded me of Liz’s rotgut boxed wine. “Mmmmm,” I said as I forced a smile. Mark waved his off and headed to the kitchen for a beer. I followed him and found everyone in Melissa’s beautiful kitchen. Melissa had renovated it after she moved in, removing the dark wood cabinets and replacing them with white Shaker fronts, replacing the granite with marble, and upgrading all the appliances, including a red Viking range.

On the large marble island with a dove-gray bottom, there were trays and trays of different cocktails. One was smoking and appeared to have dry ice inside. Jess and Melissa turned in greeting, lifting rainbow-hued cocktails in my direction. Del had an ornate bottle of bourbon next to him. Heather and Andrew were animatedly talking to him, something about how trying to find a summer home in Michigan this year was particularly challenging. Right now, I was somewhat grateful for their presence, since it would block any talk of Liz.

I placed my cocktail on the countertop and saw Tony frown out of the corner of my eye. Leaning against the island, I looked at Jess and Del and down to the bourbon bottle next to him.

“Didn’t want to try a blood orange cocktail?” I asked him.

He lifted a rocks glass and shook his head. “What can I say? I’m a purist.”

“What appetizers are you serving?” I said. My stomach hurt at the thought of repeating what Marianne had told me: to make sure our neighborhood was worth fighting for. I felt like we were sitting ducks just waiting for Liz to attack us again.

Jess’s eyes brightened. “I made cocktail meatballs and a spinach-and-artichoke dip. Del planned to do everything, but I had a housewife moment and offered.”