“Didn’t you want to give an anniversary party in September?”
“Yes, but Ernie, this must have cost thousands. I was going to make the food for our party myself.”
“You can’t do that, not after we’ve been here and seen all of this. You want to invite Brad and Suzanne, don’t you?” At her nod, he said, “Well, how’s that gonna look, us serving homemade food when they had their party catered?”
“But we can’t afford it, Ernie,” she hissed.
“That’s why they make credit cards. Don’t worry, we can pay it off quickly, in three months or so, four at the most.”
“Now, Ernie, you know we promised we’d never get in over our heads again. We’re already in enough trouble with the house. Besides, I’m sure there are other caterers.”
“The house will recover its value. It might take a while, but we’re not going anywhere. As far as the caterer, we have to use Discriminating Taste. I mean, look who’s here. The Gillespies, the Princes. They’ll be coming to our party as well. We have to measure up.”
Flo considered this. She recalled how shocked she’d been when she casually mentioned to Kim Gillespie, her next-door neighbor in the subdivision around the corner, that she and Ernie had been invited to tonight’s party. Her mouth had dropped when Kim matter-of-factly replied that she and Michael had been invited as well. If that wasn’t bad enough, Flo got another jolt of surprise when Ben and Stacy Prince showed up as here well. She didn’t understand it. Had they joined Suzanne and Brad’s inner circle while she and Ernie had been outcasts, invited only because of Gregory’s relationship with Paige?
Social connections aside, what mattered most was their personal finances. Spending money to try and outdo everyone was what had gotten them into trouble in the first place. They couldn’t continue doing that. They’d worked hard and made many sacrifices to recapture their security, but next time they might not be as fortunate. She had to make him understand. “Ernie, I want us to look good as much as you do, but we got into trouble trying to keep up with the Betancourts before. The fact is that Brad is a doctor.”
“So what? You and I have two incomes, and Suzanne doesn’t work.”
She let out an exasperated sigh. “Our two incomes combined probably come to a whole lot less than what Brad makes by himself. I read somewhere that radiologists are among the top-earning fields of medicine, up there with cardiologists and neurosurgeons. He and Suzanne do things that even Lisa and Darrell Canfield probably can’t afford. Not that the two of them are doing so badly,” she added, “but you don’t see their twins going to the Country Day School, and they don’t have a second home like Brad and Suzanne do.”
“Well, I say that if we can’t have a party catered by Discriminating Taste, we shouldn’t have one at all.”
“Oh, Ernie.” He was behaving like a petulant child. How could they let an important occasion like their silver anniversary pass without fanfare? She supposed they could always take a trip somewhere in lieu of a party, but wouldn’t a party cost as much as a vacation? A vacation might even cost more. She was tired of going to the Bahamas. Besides, she suspected that Kim and Stacy snickered about her and Ernie always going to the same place. Stacy and Ben were going to Jamaica for a week, and last year Kim and Michael went to Europe. Maybe Ernie was right. If they wanted to reclaim their position, they couldn’t skimp.
Discriminating Taste would cater their anniversary party.
This time Micheline hadn’t been able to get away fast enough to escape that oaf she’d been avoiding all evening. Part of her suspected he’d been trailing her, waiting for an opportunity to pounce on her like a dog on a bone. She figured she’d dance with him once and that would be it. She politely thanked him when the band played the last chord, but he swiftly grabbed her around her waist and pulled her close as the band slowed down the tempo. She squirmed uneasily. This man was the biggest lout she’d ever seen. How on earth did he get in?
She looked up and saw Brad watching them, his handsome features slightly distorted by a frown. She quickly moved to make the most of the perfect timing, stiffening her posture and giving her dance partner a look so stern she was certain Brad could see it from a dozen yards away. “Look, mister, you don’t even know me. The close dancing should be reserved for your wife, don’t you think? So how about it, huh? Behave.”
“It’s just that it’s not very often I get to dance with such a pretty lady.”
“Your wife is pretty,” Micheline lied. His wife, from what she could see, was on the plain side. And someone needed to tell her how to dress. Stevie Wonder could have picked out a more appropriate outfit.
“Well, yes, of course. But we’ve been married almost twenty-five years. You know how it is.”
She felt his fingers probing her bare back and immediately stiffened. “Listen. I warned you once. I don’t want to have to make a scene, but if you insist on pawing me, I’ll have no choice but to walk off and leave you standing here.”
“Oh, all right. I was just being friendly.”
Micheline didn’t bother to reply, and when the song mercifully ended, she broke away from him as fast as she could. She didn’t dare peek at Brad to see if he was watching, but fervently hoped he was.
She headed for the bar. “Chardonnay, please,” she told the bartender.
“Micheline?”
She recognized Brad’s voice and carefully concealed her elation. She began to wring her left hand with her right, repeating the action in alternating fashion as she waited for the bartender to wash out a glass and pour the wine. “Hi!” she said, as if it surprised her to see Brad standing beside her.
“Great party.”
“Thanks. I really can’t take credit for it, though. Suzanne put it together.”
Uh-oh. That was the last thing she wanted to hear. If she could, she’d take back the compliment.
“I saw you dancing with Ernie,” he said. At her quizzical look he explained, “He’s one of our neighbors from the subdivision around the corner. It looked like he might have been giving you a hard time. Was he?”
She shrugged. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“You seem upset.” He focused on her hands, which she continued to wring.
At that point she looked down, feigned surprise at what she was doing, and stopped. “I guess I did find it a teensy bit disturbing. I didn’t expect to encounter a…well, a masher at a classy function like this.” She tried not to wince at her choice of words. Masher? Who the hell used that term in the last sixty years? But it was the first thing that came into her head. She must have been watching too many old movies while cleaning and cooking at home.
“I’m sorry, Micheline. I didn’t want to invite him, but Suzanne has a soft spot for them.”
I should have known.
“Besides,” Brad continued, “Suzanne invited some other couples from Villa St. John, friends of friends, and she felt it would be insulting to them if they weren’t included. She was right, of course.”
Once more anger coursed through Micheline at Brad’s defense of his wife’s behavior. “Maybe, but at what cost?” She lowered her voice and spoke in a near whisper. “I was practically assaulted on the dance floor.”
He nodded. “I’m afraid you’re not the only one. I’ve noticed him acting inappropriately with a number of our female guests. I’ll have to pull him aside and talk to him.”
She placed a hand on his forearm in a show of concern. With a note of urgency she said, “I don’t want to make any trouble, Brad.”