Finally, blinking through the dark, my fingers settled on the object I’d been looking for. Heart hammering in my chest, I wrapped my hands around the cold brass knob hidden between the pantry shelves.

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.