stop at one of the round tables (there must be at least fifty of them) with eight seats around it. In the middle of each table is a silver artificial flower arrangement, and attached to each chair is a silver helium balloon with Marlene and Bruce written on it, surrounded by red hearts. And every place setting has a silver napkin pushed through a silver heart-shaped napkin ring.
Oh. My. God. Is this over the top or what?
“This sure is something else,” I say to Lori, not sure what the correct reaction should be. For all I know she thinks it’s as crazy as I do.
“I know,” Lori replies. “Isn’t it the most adorable setting ever?” Okay. She loves it. I glance at Guy to see if his face is letting on what he thinks of it all, but he looks enraptured too.
It’s me. It’s got to be me. I’m way out of step again. I blame my parents for not having the sense to subject me to sufficient strange parties for my good taste to be eroded. I can’t wait to tell Maddie about it, at least she’ll laugh.
Already seated at the table is Rachel, with some guy I haven’t met before, Jana and Sam (who have just started dating—quite a shock to everyone because in the past they’ve never been that friendly toward one another even though we all hang out together) and George who Lori finally plucked the courage to invite.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” booms a voice through a microphone from across the other side of the room, making me jump. “Please take your seats. Dinner is served.”
“Who’s that?” I ask Guy, nodding at the man on the stage who made the announcement.
“The MC, isn’t it?” Duh. If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking.
“MC?”
“Master of Ceremonies.” He noticeably shakes his head, and tuts. He clearly thinks I’m an idiot for not knowing. Well, at least I know which fork to use. Thanks to Rosie’s insistence on watching Pretty Woman on a regular basis.
Actually I’d know which fork to use anyway. My family isn’t totally devoid of social graces.
“Right. Thanks.” I go to pull out my seat—no fear of making a faux pas here as each place is named, I’ve got Guy on one side and George on the other—but Guy beats me to it and he holds out the chair for me to sit down.
“Thank you.” I sit down in a very ladylike manner, smoothing my dress underneath me and remembering to keep my legs together. No mean feat for someone used to wearing jeans or long skirts most of the time. “Hey, Lori,” I call across George who’s already seated beside me. “How come you’re not on the table with your parents?”
“It wasn’t easy,” she says giggling and shaking her blonde curls. “Took me ages to convince them that it wouldn’t be fair to leave you all on your own not knowing anyone. Not counting you,” she adds to Guy. “I want to have some fun tonight. And not sure sitting with them qualifies.”
“Probably not.” I grin, then pick the menu up from the table. “What’s Potage Nîmoise?” I ask no-one in particular.
“Roasted vegetable soup.”
“Thanks. A bit too—” Hey. That voice is familiar. And it sure doesn’t belong to anyone on this table. Nah. I’m losing it. It can’t be.
“You’re welcome, Suzy.” My head shoots around to the left. As if in slow motion I raise my eyes until they’re locked on the face belonging to the voice.
“Ryan,” I squeak. What is it with me and my voice in tricky situations? “You didn’t say you’ve been invited. How do you know Lori’s parents?”
He rolls his eyes upward. “Get real Suzy. I’m working. I’m your waiter for this evening. I don’t know these people.” His tone is decidedly frosty. It’s not my fault. I didn’t know he worked here, did I?
“Sorry. I’ll introduce you.” I turn back to the table. “Um, guys. This is Ryan.”
You know, I can’t believe I’ve just done that. Am I not trying my utmost to keep him away from my friends? And now, without even having a drink to blame my behavior on, I’ve gone and screwed it up.
They all say hi, with the exception of Guy who stares at Ryan. “I remember you from Starbucks,” he says. “The friend from summer camp. You get around don’t you? Are you sure you’re not stalking Suzy?”
He grins and looks to the rest of them for applause. Frankly, I think he’s decidedly unfunny but the others