I reached over and picked up the canvas grocery tote.

The waterproof sleeve sat heavily at the bottom, silently recording the quiet of the car.

I slung the bag over my shoulder and pushed open the heavy door.

The unmistakable smell of wet grass and expensive champagne floated down the street on the afternoon breeze.

I could hear the faint, graceful sound of a string quartet warming up behind the tall stone walls of the estate.

The party was only just getting started.