CHAPTER 1Aurelia #2
Calling what came next a production was putting it mildly. Had anyone asked Aurelia, she would have shamelessly classified it as a bona fide shit show.
It started with community members offering heartfelt condolences and stories about how wonderful it had been to work with Eleanor. Aurelia fought to keep her composure as they shared tales of Eleanor’s generosity and larger-than-life spirit.
Then the tone shifted. A group of elderly socialites gathered by the podium, forming a line. Each looked virtually identical: petite, silver-haired, draped in proper funeral attire, wearing black orthopedic shoes. The leader of this senior gang, Gladys Heringsworth, went first.
“There are no words worthy enough to express my sorrow for the passing of our dear Eleanor. She was as close to me as a sister could be, and now I find myself bereft— bereft without my friend,” Gladys blubbered.
“My annual holiday party will be a little less lively, but no less sublime,” she clarified, “without Eleanor this year.” She looked up at the ceiling as she waved a small, frail fist in the air while the other rested over her heart.
“I’ll have a slice of my Pistachio Custard Pie in your memory, my sweet angel,” she cried dramatically.
The sniffling across the room intensified as Gladys left the stage, handkerchief in hand. Margaret Carrington followed, carefully dabbing her eyes as she spoke with conviction.
“Oh, my stars! Eleanor’s departure is a loss I’ll feel forever,” she declared.
“She was always such a… unique presence. Even when she wore those questionably ostentatious outfits or said such unfiltered things, she did it with such confidence, you almost had to admire her audacity. We may not have always agreed, but she certainly… existed .”
The MC gently ushered Margaret offstage, but not before she scowled at him. Aurelia cringed as Nancy Fitzwalter swiftly took Margaret’s space on stage.
“Eleanor…our beloved Eleanor,” Nancy sobbed.
“She truly was one of a kind. No one else could manage to show up an hour late to every event and still demand the best seat in the house. She had the sort of charm that would make you simultaneously roll your eyes and pour her another glass of champagne. She may be gone, but that unmistakable perfume of hers will haunt my cashmere for years to come.”
Nancy exited the stage, outwardly overcome with grief as Gertrude Pavendish began to make her way forward…
but was cut off by a speed walking Judith Vanderlyn.
Aurelia couldn’t contain her surprise over how quickly Judith was able to squeak by.
Judging by the ruinous look on Gertrude’s face, this was a slight that wouldn’t be forgotten any time soon.
“I don’t even know where to begin to truly express what a special person Eleanor was.
As her best friend—” Gertrude snorted loudly, prompting Judith to glower at her, “—I can honestly say that she was a beacon of grace…after a few martinis. Always perfectly coiffed, even when she got names wrong at charity galas. But oh, how we loved her. She may not have remembered anyone’s birthday, but she certainly remembered every single grudge…
” she cut another look at Gertrude, “ Truly unforgettable.”
The MC edged closer to the podium, sensing the tension. Gertrude stormed up next, hate-filled eyes still trained on Judith.
“What can I say about our precious Eleanor that hasn’t already been whispered at lunch?
” She seethed. “She was a master at creating drama. Always the life of the party…but we adored her for it, didn’t we?
After all, she taught us one important lesson: sometimes, it’s better to forgive than to dwell on her antics.
” She glared pointedly at Judith as she said, “Too bad some of us can’t always live by these words. ”
Judith bristled in her seat. The MC quickly intervened to introduce Ophelia Draycott. Aurelia sent a silent prayer to the universe to let this be the last of Eleanor’s friends.
Ophelia stood there for a moment, surveying the crowd with beady yet shrewd eyes before she spoke. “I have so many wonderful memories of Eleanor that I will always cherish,” she sighed theatrically, bowing her head before looking up at the crowd again.
“What a vivacious spirit she had! She lived life to the fullest—sometimes too full. Remember the time she tried to outbid me for that antique vase? Hilarious! ” Ophelia forced a laugh.
“She was a woman of contradictions: so generous with her opinions, even when no one asked, and so humble about her achievements that she never quite mentioned any. But truthfully, she was a friend. Well, a friendly rival, really. I will always treasure the way she made me feel better about myself…by comparison. She had a way of making every room a little louder and every evening a bit more unpredictable. In a world of dull politeness, she was a… colorful reminder that chaos can be entertaining.”
Aurelia was dumbfounded. At least she had Selene as a real friend. She would rather have a small group of genuine friends than what these six impostors purported to be. She couldn’t fathom how Eleanor tolerated these women.
Then Bertrand Dallingford shuffled to the podium, cane in hand. Aurelia knew him as Eleanor’s sworn enemy. When she had once asked about their relationship, Eleanor had waved it off as “another man jealous of my brilliance.”
Bertrand’s deep, gravelly voice cut through the room.
“I’ve known Eleanor all my life, and she kept secrets from all of you,” he bellowed.
“The biggest secret that old spindly cactus kept was of her torrid love affair with me. Right up until the end, she couldn’t keep her fossilized fingers off me.
There is not a room in this estate, and that includes the closets and pantries, where she didn't have her way with me. Only three weeks ago, she propositioned me right here—”
“How could you do this to me, Bertrand!” A shrill voice from somewhere on the left interrupted.
“You told me that your affair with Eleanor ended years ago and that I was the only woman you had eyes for! I cannot believe I ever gave you and your sour pickle the time of day!” All eyes were fixed on Gladys, the source of the ear-piercing wail.
“I cannot control my animal magnetism, Gladys,” he shouted back as more women stood, shrieking. Bertrand, despite his limited mobility brought forth by his age, had been remarkably busy indeed.
Dinner rolls and silverware started flying.
Aurelia met Selene’s eyes. They shared a look that silently begged for ear bleach.
Selene began discreetly giving orders over her earpiece, while Aurelia signaled the MC to intercede.
He hurried to the stage and guided Bertrand away as security stepped in.
The MC leaned into the microphone and thanked everyone for their “spirited” tributes before wrapping up the segment. Dessert and coffee followed, with murmurs about the final video message Eleanor prepared.
Aurelia then realized she had never seen the video herself. She was as clueless as everyone else in the room, which made her very uneasy.
She looked for Charles before spotting him at the bar, right as he threw back the contents of another drink. He slowly shook his head and faced the nearest screen. With an eerie sense of foreboding, she did the same as the final video began to play.
There was Eleanor, perched upon her favorite silver, gray, and blue leopard print chaise in her personal study.
Her white hair was perfectly styled in an elaborate French pompadour with a large peacock feather protruding from the back.
Her cerulean eyes bored into the camera as she donned her favorite sequined peacock-patterned pantsuit, large pearl necklace, and bone-colored loafers.
She peered at each person through the screen as if physically here before speaking.
“If this video is playing, I suppose we can agree I’m long gone from this world. My only regret in life is that I couldn’t see what kind of sorry-looking lot showed up for my farewell party.” Her voice echoed through the silent ballroom.
“For everyone out there wondering where my money is going, if Charles Pierce hasn’t contacted you within forty-eight hours, then you’re not getting a dime . I’m dead, not stupid. I know you’ve all been talking about it.”
She paused, her eyes raking over the camera.
“To my devoted staff members, please report to work tomorrow morning as usual—and on time . Just because I’m dead doesn’t mean we slack off.”
She leaned forward, eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Lastly, I have some things to confess. Bertrand…my beloved Bertrand. There is not a single person here who believes that the thing atop your head you refer to as your hair is real. Now I’m in the afterlife, still absolutely baffled as to how someone so filthy rich was duped into wearing a piece of roadkill on his head.
” Bertrand emitted a strangled sound of indignation while guests snickered.
“But more importantly,” Eleanor continued, “I wanted everyone to know about the intimate relationship Bertrand and I continued all these years. When I found out he was putting that limp noodle in my dear friend Gladys's rusty pasta pot, I was ready to beat him with that unkempt head rug of his.”
Gasps rang out through the crowd.
“Instead, I strung you along all this time, Bertrand, pretending like I knew nothing.” She cackled darkly.
“The deliciously scandalous secrets you spilled about anyone and anything after every one of our dalliances…my god, your lips are as loose as you are. That’s the reason, my one-and-only Bertrand, I kept you so close. ”
The maniacal glint in her eyes raised Aurelia’s hackles, and she braced herself for whatever Eleanor was going to say next.
“And that’s the reason why my death is the perfect excuse to gather you all together in one room…just so I could say that I know it wasn’t only Gladys, but also Margaret, Nancy, Judith, Gertrude, and Ophelia who kept sampling that tiny cocktail wiener !”
The room erupted into chatter that got louder and louder, but our precious Eleanor wasn’t done yet.
No, instead she aggressively pointed a finger at the left side of the ballroom and yelled her last words before the video abruptly ended, “…and Gladys, I will never forgive you for stealing my family’s secret Pistachio Custard Pie recipe decades ago and pawning it off as your own at your annual holiday party!
I hope you rot in hell right along with Bertrand and his saggy harem, you porch-sitting gargoyle! ”
The ballroom descended into chaos. Bertrand was carried off by security as dinner rolls and curses flew.
Aurelia met Selene’s wild eyes while another two security guards tried to hold the line against the mass of angry elderly lovers hobbling in Bertrand’s direction, looking for their pound of flesh.
Aurelia looked at Charles, who was still seated at the bar with a new drink in hand. He winked at her before raising his glass in a silent toast and again gulping it down in one go.
It took hours to clean up the mess in the ballroom and even longer for the police to complete their investigation, after several guests activated their medical alert necklaces to call for help.
Eight guests were arrested and charged with disorderly conduct, assault, and even assault and battery on a police officer. It turned out Gladys had used Bertrand’s cane to strike an officer who was trying to handcuff her.
As soon as she got home, Aurelia swapped her long purple maxi dress and sandals for a tank top and shorts. She pulled her long, brown, wavy hair into a messy bun, grabbed a bottle of water, and walked out onto the dock.
She had been there ever since, grieving and reflecting on how alone she felt.
Despite her closeness with Selene, Aurelia never felt completely comfortable sharing her deepest feelings with her.
They both carried their own scars. Eleanor was the only person she had ever truly opened up to—and she was gone.
“I already miss you so much,” she whispered to the night sky. “I hope wherever you are now, you’re pain-free and haunting someone.” A warm, gentle breeze brushed her cheek, like phantom fingers offering reassurance.
A small smile tugged at her lips. Perhaps it was the grief talking, but she chose to take it as a sign that Eleanor was still with her in some way.
Wiping her eyes, Aurelia stood and headed back into the house. She still had to report to work on time tomorrow.