“Which is why”—Kendra waved her papers—“we need to get the word out ASAP. I’ll take care of pitching the local media, of course. I mean, the calendar listings and whatnot. That’s easy. But what I’m hoping for from you, Theresa, is more like personal invites.”

She handed me a printout, an Excel spreadsheet titled “The Ivy Five—Halloween Block Party Guest List,” followed by names and addresses. “These are the kinds of people we’re talking about.” She moved her pencil down her spreadsheet efficiently. “Maybe Adam knows someone?”

The list was alphabetical and organized by category, with different shades of color for each mother’s guests:

Red for Kendra.

Orange for Bettina.

Green for Pia.

Pink for Alice.

Four mothers. Four colors.

“The Ivy Five,” I said without thinking, my reporter’s instinct kicking into gear. “But there are only four of you?”

I expected them to tell a cute story. Maybe someone liked the sound of the rhyme, so they just went with it. But I was met only with an awkward silence and blank stares. You could cut the tension with Kendra’s chunky gold hoops.

Oh god. What if the fifth member had died or something? I tried to recover. “I’m sorry, was that a bad question? Georgeann had just said—”

“Georgeann Wilkins?” Kendra asked. She adjusted her necklace again.

I wished I’d kept my mouth shut. “Yeah. She...”

Kendra broke into a wide smile. “Oh it’s fine. Sorry. Honestly, it’s just one of those names that stuck all these years. We forget it doesn’t make sense anymore. Our fifth friend moved away ages ago.”

“Career opportunity,” Bettina added.

“We haven’t seen her in forever,” Alice said. “You know how it is when someone moves away. I mean, it’s awful to say, but if I don’t see someone...they might as well have just...”

Pia looked up from her phone. “What they are trying to say is we buried her in the basement.”

“Har, har, Pia,” Kendra said.

“Do you need another drink?” Bettina asked. When I shook my head, she got up and poured herself another. “We need another toast,” she said. “To the shrewdest moms in town.”

“To the best-dressed moms in town,” Pia added with her water bottle.

Kendra slid her spreadsheet back in her bag, and picked up her drink, too. “To the most reliable moms in town.”

“And the prettiest, of course.” Alice giggled.

They all looked at me expectantly.

I held up my glass. “To the most popular moms in town?”

“Hear, hear.” We clinked. Some gin sloshed. I tilted my head back and let it roll down my throat. I wasn’t used to drinking this much liquor this fast, but I liked how light I felt.

Alice set her glass down on the table. “I almost forgot! Bettina, you’ve got to show Theresa the—They’re almost ready, right?”

“It’s probably too dark...”