The Unkindest Cut - By Honor Hartman Page 0,20

past six thirty, the three of us were ready for the reception. Sophie wore cream slacks and a stunning blue silk blouse that set off her blond hair and tanned skin to perfection, while Marylou had chosen an emerald pantsuit with a white shell. I had opted for my favorite red silk top and black slacks, accompanied by a wide red, white, and black belt. The belt was very 1960s, but I loved it. Sophie grinned when she saw it.

‘‘That’s so retro,’’ she said, ‘‘but on you, it actually works.’’

‘‘Thank you,’’ I said. ‘‘I think.’’

‘‘We all look very nice,’’ Marylou said. ‘‘Casual but elegant.’’ She beamed at us as proudly as if we were her daughters.

After Sophie and I gave her a quick hug, we were out the door and on the way to the reception. Sixty to seventy people milled about in the ballroom, and a few more entered behind the three of us. The transformation of the room was complete. If anyone had wondered what the theme of this party was, the decorations ought to be a big clue. Large playing cards hung from the ceiling at intervals, and I counted them. There were thirteen—in other words, a bridge hand.

Quite a hand it was, too, I decided as I assessed the cards. Twenty-seven high card points—almost enough for a slam bid in one hand.

I examined the rest of the room. Suspended over the dais were two large bridge scorepads, partially filled in. I moved on to the tables. Each of them sported a flower arrangement, and looming out of each arrangement were large cards, continuing the pattern of the large cards overhead.

I realized with a start that Marylou and Sophie had left me to goggle at the room on my own. I spotted them near the buffet table and walked over to them, wending my way through the milling crowd.

‘‘Look at this spread,’’ Sophie said. She held a small plate, empty at the moment. ‘‘Too many choices.’’

I agreed as I looked over the long table. There were platters of crudités with dip in the center, plates of delicious-looking cheeses with bread and crackers, a mound of grapes and sliced apples on a tray, and a selection of meats and breads for small sandwiches. A table nearby held a tempting array of dessert items, like miniature cheesecakes, pecan pies, and éclairs, just to name a few.

The three of us made our choices before going to the bar for drinks. Then, drinks in hand, we found an unoccupied table and sat down. There were eight places at each table, and before long our table filled up. We introduced ourselves to the newcomers, one of whom was a twelve-year-old girl attending with her grandmother.

The grandmother proudly informed us that the young girl was a whiz at bridge and had already accumulated an impressive number of points toward being named a Life Master. The girl, whose name was Alice McCarthy, blushed and tried, without success, to restrain her grandmother, Lucinda McCarthy. Before too many minutes had elapsed, everyone at our table knew more than any of us could ever wish to know about Alice’s prowess, while Alice hunched so far down in her chair I thought she would soon disappear under the table.

Taking pity on the poor girl, I engaged her in conversation, and Marylou did her best with the grandmother. We had made some headway when we were all startled by a voice booming out across the room. We all turned toward the dais to see a beaming Basil Dumont at the podium.

‘‘Thank you for your attention, ladies and gentlemen, ’’ he said. He paused for a long moment to let the residual chatter die down. ‘‘We’re all so pleased you could join us for this wonderful event here at this beautiful hotel. Isn’t the hotel doing a great job for us?’’

Again he paused, this time for some rather lukewarm applause from the audience.

Sophie leaned toward me. ‘‘I guess most of them have met Veronica Hinkelmeier, too, and they don’t like her any more than we do.’’ She kept her voice low, but people nearby heard her.

One man guffawed, then said, ‘‘You got that right, honey.’’ He winked at Sophie, who smiled back at him.

Alice had heard her as well. Her face solemn, she regarded me. ‘‘That’s the lady that checked us in, isn’t she?’’

I nodded.

Alice frowned. ‘‘She was really rude to Nana and me when we checked in. I thought she was just having a bad day, but I guess