We moved through the dining room, and I gasped at the trays of appetizers the caterers had left out for us, along with nearly a dozen bottles of wine. Oysters, hush puppies, miniature po-boy sandwiches, and barbeque shrimp were laid out on trays for us to snack on. I’d arranged for them earlier in the evening; they were probably cold by now. Honestly, I’d forgotten all about the amount of food I’d ordered. I’d requested so many things for the party—perhaps I did go a little overboard on Tinsley’s dime…

I scooped up a sandwich, but the others groaned at the food, disinterested in more indulgences.

“Don’t worry. We’re not going swimming,” I told Bri, my mouth still full of food. “There’s a little fire pit out there in the courtyard and I was going to light a fire for us.”

“It’s too hot for a fire, Mara,” Georgia said, clutching her Elizabeth’s arm in earnest. Elizabeth looked the worst for wear. She probably could have used Georgia in that moment for a prop, but she yanked her arm away, giving Georgia a disgusted frown.

Wow. Their little bond fizzled out quickly, I thought, wincing.

“The fire isn’t for the heat, it’s for atmosphere. I thought we could tell some ghost stories or something. Or have a final girls’ powwow on our last night together in the mansion. We can’t end it in a drunken stupor, ladies!” I said, trying to muster up some much-needed enthusiasm.

They were all about to shut me down again, but then Rosalee belched and said, “I love bonfires! Let’s do it. I’m feeling re-energized!”

It had been so long since I’d seen her drunk, not since our early days in college. She was more fun this way, and more pliable too.

“Yes! The guest of honor gets to do what she wants!” I exclaimed, giving the others a triumphant look.

Everyone shuffled into the courtyard, and I set to work stacking the logs in a perfect formation, using lighter fluid to get the flame going quickly. Bri helped me tug chairs around the pit, and the six of us took our seats around the fire, eyes glowing as we watched shadows dancing over our faces through the flames.

We looked like bright pumpkins, shadows lengthening and faces ghastly in the orange, florid light.

“I know! Instead of stories, we should play truth or dare. Remember when we used to play that, Tinsley?” Rosalee pointed across the circle at her cousin.

I groaned. “What are we, in third grade?”

Tinsley gave me a dirty look, then smiled and nodded at Rosalee.

“Yes, truth or dare! I have a question,” Elizabeth blurted out of nowhere, shocking the hell out of me. “What’s going on between you two?” She pointed a finger at me, then motioned over to Tinsley.