Bob salutes with his brandy snifter. “To the next murder!”
Luc bows deeply. “As you can see, we have our winners. Miss Delacroix and Miss Alan!Bravo!”
Mama raises a glass. “To Ember and Heidi, the sleuths of the century.”
“And to Madame Lavande,” Papa says with mock solemnity, “who really should have stuck to arias and absinthe.”
Luc presents us with two exquisitely wrapped boxes of Maison Bonnat chocolates. “Chosen by Mrs. Margot Rousseau herself. The prize for cunning and a clear moral compass.”
There is laughter and clapping.
As we discuss going to the sunroom for post-dinner drinks, Calypso announces, “I’m going to go to bed. I have a headache.”
She walks up to Mama and hugs her. Thanks her for a wonderful Christmas Eve.
“I hope you feel better soon.” Mama is the hostess with the mostest.
“I’ll walk you to the room.” Ransom puts a hand on the small of Calypso’s back.
They leave, and the energy that had dropped at Calypso’s announcement rises back again, even higher. The room feels free with her gone. Her presence had been a black cloud because she made her dislike of Dinner Murder Mystery Theater so evident.
Yes, it’s ridiculous, but it’s also fun.It’s us.
Mama lifts her chin at me. “Do you have any painkillers?”
“For Calypso?” I guess correctly because she nods. “I’ll take some to her.”
I don’t want to go all the way to the room Calypso shares with Ransom, where they sleep together, make love, but when Mama asks me to do something, I do it.
I grab a bottle of Paracetamol from the vanity in the downstairs powder room.
But before I reach the hallway that takes me to the bedrooms, I hear voices coming from the library.
The door is ajar. I am about to walk in when I catch Ransom’s words, low, clipped. “…why would you tell her that?”
“Because she needed to know that I know,” Calypso replies defensively. “Because I noticed. I’m not blind.”
“You should’ve left it alone.”
There’s a pause. Then: “What exactly do you feel for her?”
I stop breathing.
“What?” Ransom demands.
“What do you feel for Ember? You owe me at least that. You brought me here. You didn’t tell me she’s an ex. How long were you with her?”
I hear Ransom bark. “Fuck, Cali! Leave the past where?—"
“How long did you date her?”
Long pause.
“A year.”
“Wow. For you, that is long.”
There is silence.
