Emily handed the invitation to Regina and stood meekly, hands clasped in front while the older woman read. These events were always dreaded when they came up, not because they were not exceptionally civilized and sophisticated, but because Emily was too shy in company, particularly male company. Regina humphed noisily and tossed the invitation aside.
"Don't stand there pouting, Emily, get something suitable to wear out of your closet and dust it off." Regina said, nastily.
"Do we really need to attend these parties, Regina?"
"Yes, Emily. You know we do. Besides, how else do you expect to meet any young gentlemen? You never go anywhere."
"But Alec Fletcher is the only single man here and he isn't interested in someone like me."
Regina rose out of her chair and went to the garden window. "There's that other one upstairs, Wally Spade." She heard Emily groan. "Or there's even old Stanley. I'm sure he would be happy to have some companionship in his twilight years."
"Regina! He's an old man!"
"And you'll soon be an old woman, girl, with no money and no one to provide for you." She turned and snarled. "There'll be nothing for you when I'm gone."
******
Alec loped up the stairs and down the hall to his suite, fumbling with his keys and the bundle he'd received on the sidewalk from the woman delivering the mail. He kicked the door shut with his foot and went straight to the kitchen, dumping the mail on the table and hitting the button on his answering machine.
There were several messages from clients with requests and commands, one from his sister who was looking for another contribution to their mother's home care facility and one from an old friend who was only passing through town that week and hoped for a little gab time.
Alec selected a bottle of juice from his fridge and cracked the top, his eye catching the lilac coloured envelope on the table. The phrase, oh no, zipped through his mind as he tore it open and read it aloud with growing dismay. There was no excuse good enough to refuse Millicent Degrew's party invitations. She cared not one whit what a person might have scheduled; her party took precedence regardless and at lease renewal time, attendance counted.
"Jesus, not Garbo again," he groaned. "I vant to be alone" Alec mimicked as he shucked through the rest of the mail.
******
Wally pushed back from his desk for a better view of the new receptionist as she crouched down to retrieve some paper from beneath her stool. He tilted his head this way and that, angling for a better view beneath her taut skirt. As she rose their eyes locked and he gave her a derisive smile and winked broadly.
When she didn't respond, he pulled himself back to his desk and muttered an oath. He would have to go out there and speak to her; she needed a proper introduction to the company's most eligible, he thought. As he finished writing up some purchase orders and filing away his finished business, he remembered the party at the condo and decided that would be his opening with the new girl.
She could come as his date for the evening. The best part was, he would already be at home so whose place to go to after wouldn't require a debate. He locked up his desk, grabbed his sport jacket from the hook behind the door and sauntered down the hall, flipping the loose strand of hair a little lower on the forehead.
"Hey, hi. You're the new receptionist, eh?" He leaned down and peered at the tag on her sweater, taking longer than necessary to read the name. "Wally Spade," he announced, sticking out a hand. "P.A."
"Hello," she said, with little interest, and withdrew her hand as the phone rang and she answered with a musical response.
He dropped his smile and waited for her to finish and when she did he faced a flat, uninterested stare. "I uh- I was wondering, Darlene, if you wanted to take in a garden party with me Friday night." Wally made it known, not too subtly, that he was the company catch and dates with Wally Spade were rare pearls indeed.
"No, thank you."
"Huh?" Wally flushed in annoyed surprise. "You don't want to go?"
"That's right."
"What, are you too good for a garden party or something?" He was getting angry and redder in equal proportion.
"I believe I've given my answer, Mister Spade."
Wally stepped back and hitched up his pants, sneering down his nose at her. "Yeah, you did. Chances like this are one time offers sweetheart." She just stared at him. "Fine, your loss." He tossed his jacket over his shoulder and pushed through the glass doors into the lobby.
Wally made his way directly to the coffee shop across from the building and without preamble, told Cheryl, the waitress, to be at his place by seven on Friday night. She grinned vacantly and nodded to his departing back.
******
Gary Dasher swung left through the traffic and flipped open his ringing phone. A large van crept out from the curb in front of him and he planted his palm on the horn, holding it down while he raced around the obstruction. In the mirror he saw the driver gesturing with both of his hands in reply.
"Asshole. Geena, hi."
"Trouble baby?"
"Usual troglodytes with driving licenses. What's up?" He accelerated past another, too slow car, and glared.
"I popped into the apartment for a minute and found our invitation to the annual bore. It's Friday night."
"Ah shit, no. We gotta find a way to skip these things, Geena, there's too much to do."
"I'm with you there, baby but it's coming up lease time and the location is so perfect."
"I know. Okay, look, I'm gonna work longer today and then finish up tomorrow on these three accounts. I'll grab something uptown. That mesh with you?"
"Cool, baby. I'll hit a drive through and scoot on over to TriTech; I can catch some of their guys before they clock off."
"Great. Ciao."
Ciao, baby."
******
Sophia Morano leaned against the side of the booth, toying with the ribbon on her blouse. She leaned over and filled the young man's coffee cup and pouted seductively as a few drops lit on the table.
"Oooh, sooory," she cooed, wiping them up slowly and smiling into his handsome face. "Clumsy me."
"Ahhh, Sophia," the young man flirted back. "I am the clumsy one. I should have taken you into my arms when I came in and we could now be in a rapturous embrace, our molten skin burning together—"
"Whoah there, Robbie." Sophia laughed throatily. "I still have a half a day ahead of me here. How could I concentrate? Is this how you lawyers always behave?" She ruffled his hair and swished back to the counter.
"They all love you Sophia." Her boss grinned with a lopsided cant of his head.
"I love them too, Harry." She swayed over and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. "But you are the love beast of my dreams."
"If only. Listen, Seb called. He wants you to know something about a garden party this week."
"Oh great. I love those gatherings." She gave a brief description of Millicent's parties as she waited for a fresh pot of coffee to brew. The street door opened and another group entered, calling to Sophia and making broad gestures of aching hearts. She laughed, grabbed the pot and wiggled ahead of the group, leading them to their table.
"Okay boys, who's first?" She asked, waving the coffee around teasingly.
******
Sebastian folded the invitation and creased it with his thumbnail. It was an insult to his manhood that some dizzy, nutcake of an old woman could demand his presence at one of her stupid parties. He knew his wife enjoyed them and that made him even madder; Sophia needed a reminder of her place in this family. He twisted the top off another beer and stared morosely out the window at the screen of trees and the teasing glimpse of the city skyline.
Previous evenings, such as the one upcoming, Sebastian had seen the creep down the hall hitting on his wife and how she behaved exactly as she did at work. He had watched with care, wondering just how much of her performance might be real.
The creep had certainly fallen for it completely. If he hadn't been there, glowering dangerously at the man, would things have gone further? The beer went down in one long swallow. Sophia needed a good old-fashioned lesson in obedience, Sebastian concluded, reaching for another beer.
******
Pierre Boussar at La Petite Bouchée read over his list and checked the items one by one. He had been providing for Millicent Degrew's parties for at least thirteen years and remembered when the residents at Garbo Towers were all of an age, eagerly taking part in the ritual's fantasy, temporarily turning the garden into a time machine. It was a little different these days; the ages and the types of residents the Towers now held didn't quite suit the intention of the occasion.
He made a few notes on the bottom of the list and called his assistant over, directing which items should be prepared first. The parties at Garbo Towers were not society news; they were exclusively private, for residents only. On rare occasions, usually the Queen's birthday or Canada Day, Millicent included the two other families on the cul-de-sac but never for her nostalgia celebrations. Pierre reminded himself to order the champagne and as was his wont, a special box of handmade chocolates from Liquid Cream Dreams, the city's Rolls Royce of chocolatiers.
He would arrive precisely at six o'clock, knowing that the event company would be finished their installation of tables, chairs, lighting and a sound track of music from the correct era at exactly five-thirty. Millicent would have made a marvelous general with her unerring knack for logistics. Pierre considered using one of his apprentices for the affair but banished the thought and decided on the same two members of his staff that worked all the other affairs; they were the right age and they both enjoyed the roles they were asked to play.
He would be there to make certain everything began well and he would return in time to see that the cleanup was managed quickly and quietly. The event company was given until the following morning to remove their wares; Millicent did not want trucks rumbling up to her front door at the end of the evening.
He read over the list again and then bit his lip, why not give the apprentice an opportunity? He could spell on the bar; that would give him experience without too much demand. He tapped his lip with his finger, deciding, and in the end decided yes.
La Petite Bouchée did very well by Millicent Degrew, very well indeed.