“Coming through!” Yoko shouted as she carried an armload of peonies, with the dogs yapping at her feet. It was organized pandemonium.
Myra gasped at the sight of the colorful blooms. “Yoko! Where did you find peonies this time of year? They are absolutely gorgeous!”
With Yoko’s arms filled with the massive bouquet, one could not see her face, and it seemed as if the flowers spoke when she answered, “I know people!”
A rip-roaring laugh filled the room. Everyone in Myra and Annie’s circle knew someone. And it was those “someones” who assisted the women when they were on a mission. But today it was about flowers, food, and friends.
Kathryn parted the flowers hiding Yoko’s face. “Peekaboo!”
“Very funny,” Yoko chided Kathryn. “How about lending one of those big hands of yours!”
Kathryn grabbed the flowers and set them down on the large table in the entry. “Myra, where do you want these?”
Charles looked at the dozens, no hundreds, of flowers. “Did you bring the entire greenhouse with you, Yoko?”
Yoko tilted her head in Myra’s direction. “What do you think? Everything but lilies.”
Charles nodded. Of course she did, and of course, no lilies. House rules. Lilies could be toxic for dogs and cats.
Myra surveyed the dozens of arrangements and began giving orders. “Tulips in Charlotte’s room. They were always her favorite—a sign of spring. Fuchsia peonies can stay here, white peonies and the cherry blossoms go in the dining room, orchids in the drawing room, and gardenias in the bathrooms. Blue irises in the master bedroom and sunflowers in the kitchen.”
The women grabbed the vases in unison and made quick work of placing them according to Myra’s instructions.
Maggie, whose insatiable appetite was the stuff of legends, was the first to ask, “What’s for dinner, Charles?”
“Besides your cuticles?” Charles gave her an admonishing look.
Maggie held up both hands. “Look! I actually got a manicure!”
Everyone stopped in their tracks.
“You got a what?” Kathryn roared. “I’ve gotta see this.” She grabbed Maggie’s hands. “Well, I’ll be darned. What gives?”
“I thought it might help me to stop biting them. But now I’m cracking my knuckles, just like you!” She nudged Kathryn with a playful elbow to the ribs.
More laughter and cackling ensued.
“We all have our little quirks, dear.” Myra gestured with her hand on her pearls.
“Yes, but your quirk is elegant. Mine is, well, juvenile. Or neurotic,” Maggie interjected.
“Neurotic?” Kathryn teased. “You won’t get an argument out of me!”
Another round of giggles sounded until the chime of the doorbell interrupted the joviality.
Charles took charge of the door. “Must be the liquor store. I ordered Aperol for our aperitif cocktails.”
“My new favorite!” Annie exclaimed. “Aperol, prosecco, and a splash of seltzer. Garnished with a slice from a juicy orange. Refreshing!” She smacked her lips. “Yum!”
“Okay, everyone. Now that we have the flowers sorted, let’s get started on setting the table. I know it’s still early, but I think all of you will want to freshen up before we turn our attention to Charles and Annie’s latest favorite libation.” Myra gestured to the dining room.
“Where are Nikki and Alexis?” Kathryn asked.
“Finishing up a trial. They should be here momentarily,” Myra replied, giving Charles a sideways look that said, “Don’t you say a word.” And in his usual fashion, Charles gave a knowing nod.
With speed, accuracy, and movements that seemed to mimic synchronized swimming, the women began to set the table, each one knowing her assignment. They would create a glorious display fit for a queen.
Isabelle called into the kitchen, “The Tiffany or Waterford trumpet flutes?”
“I think the Waterford would be better for the aperitif. We like to layer the cocktail,” Charles explained. “First, you add the Aperol to the glass, and then you pour the prosecco gently, so it floats on top of the Aperol, then just a little splash of seltzer. And, as Annie indicated, serve the whole thing with a slice of orange, and voilà!”
“A most beautiful and tasty delight,” Annie observed.
“Perhaps Charles should introduce that ambrosia to us now. ‘Get the party started,’ as they say,” Maggie said, tossing in her two cents.
“Perhaps we should wait,” Myra said patiently. She knew the girls were getting excited about the dinner party. They had met Charlotte several years before, when she was signing at BookExpo in Washington, D.C. “We don’t want to be snockered before Charlotte gets here.”
“But she knows us!” Kathryn chuckled. “But I suppose you’re correct. We still have a couple of hours and some chores before she gets here.”