“Are you okay?” she asked, and he nodded, looking distracted. “Something on your mind?” He shook his head and left again. She started to worry about him, but didn't have time. Then Margaret called. Her mother was running a fever after her mastectomy, and might have an infection. Margaret was still coming to the ball that night, but she was going to be late. She had to stay with her mother at the hospital and help her eat dinner. She didn't have time to pick Frieda up. She felt terrible to let Ollie down, but she had no other choice. Her mother was feeling rotten. Olympia said she understood, and stood staring at the phone for a minute, trying to figure it out. She had to be at the hotel with the girls from five o'clock on. Charlie had to be there by four, which left no one to accompany Frieda in the limousine. She had an idea then, and went to discuss it with Harry.
He listened carefully, convinced she was going to try and manipulate him into going with her at the last minute. She had given up all hope of that. All she wanted from him was to get his mother into the limousine, put the wheelchair in with her, and call Olympia on her cell phone the minute they left the house. Olympia would then go down to the lobby and out to the street, meet Frieda in the limousine, put her in the wheelchair, and get her upstairs to dinner before the ball. Olympia made it sound easy. The fact that she'd be dressing two hysterical girls, watching them be photographed, and trying to calm them down, while dressing herself, she didn't mention to her husband.
“Can you do that for me?” she asked after outlining her plan for his mother.
“Of course I can. She's my mother.” Olympia made no comment about his not going with them, nor asked him to join her. All she wanted was for him to get his mother into the limousine and call her. They both knew anyone could do that, and it was the least he could do, whatever his political opinions. He looked slightly embarrassed as he assured his wife he'd take care of it on his end.
“Great. Thanks. 'Bye,” she said, and flew out of the house to get her hair done. Ginny's was done by then. Veronica was getting hers done at the same time as her mother. Ginny got her nails done while they had their hair done. Veronica had had her nails done first. It was orchestrated like the landing of the Allied troops in Normandy on D-day.
At three-thirty Olympia called the house to remind Charlie to leave for the hotel, with his tailcoat, trousers, shirt, white tie, vest, socks, and patent-leather shoes. And the gloves he had to wear. He said he would leave in five minutes. He was ready to go.
Olympia and the girls got home at four-fifteen, perfectly coiffed and beautifully manicured. Harry was playing cards with Max. Charlie had left. And Frieda was having a nap. They gathered up their things, and mother and daughters left for the hotel in good order at four-thirty. They checked into the room Olympia had reserved for them at the hotel where the ball was held. Olympia took a minute to call Harry then. She had scarcely said good-bye to him when she left. She reminded him of what time to put his mother in the limo, and to call her on her cell phone. He said he understood, and sounded very quiet. He promised to wake his mother at six o'clock, and would help her dress. The limousine was coming for her at seven-fifteen. There was a dinner for the girls, their escorts, and their families. The rest of the guests were coming at nine. Rehearsal was at five. It was in the same ballroom as the ball was held. Olympia got the girls downstairs on schedule, at ten to five.
As it so happened, Veronica's escort, Jeff Adams, was walking in, with his tailcoat on a hanger, just as Olympia and the girls appeared at the entrance to the ballroom for rehearsal. Olympia closed her eyes, hoping she was hallucinating. As it turned out, she wasn't. Jeff Adams had bright blue hair. Not dark blue, or midnight blue, which might be mistaken for black in a darkened ballroom. It was somewhere between turquoise and sapphire, and there was no mistaking what color it was, in any light. He looked extremely pleased with himself, and insufferably arrogant as he shook Olympia's hand. Veronica looked at him and laughed. Ginny still looked like a zombie, after Steve's perfidy of the night before. He had told her that even though he was dumping her for another girl, he was “willing” to come to the ball. And much to Olympia's horror, Ginny had told him he could. She said she wanted one last night with him. Thinking about it made Olympia feel sick, but she didn't want to upset Ginny more. He was due to show up at nine with the other guests, since he wasn't her escort. He was going to sit at Olympia's table with their other guests. Olympia was sorely tempted to stab him with a fork. She would have liked the same fate for Jeff, as Veronica congratulated him on the fabulous color of his hair. He handed his tailcoat to Olympia, and asked her to hang on to it for him during rehearsal. She wanted to kill him.
They lined up for rehearsal in four straight lines, two of debutantes, and two of escorts, while members of the ball committee walked between them and inspected them. A somber-looking matron in black slacks and a Chanel jacket stopped directly in front of Jeff, and explained the situation to him in no uncertain terms. After rehearsal he had until nine o'clock that night to return his hair to a normal, human color, whichever one he preferred, whether his own or not, or if he preferred not to change his hair color, Veronica would be provided with another escort for the ball. The head of the committee made it clear to him that it was entirely his choice. He looked somewhat subdued, while Veronica continued to laugh at him. She seemed to find the entire escapade hysterically funny, and her mother was seriously upset at her. Between the recent discovery of the tattoo on her back, and the color of her escort's hair, she seemed to be entering a new phase of her life. It was no longer enough to throw out the grapes her mother bought, now apparently she had to shock everyone and make a spectacle of herself. Olympia was far from pleased.
She mentioned it to her when they went back to their room after rehearsal, to dress.
“Veronica, that wasn't funny. All he did was make the members of the committee mad at him, and you by association.”
“Come on, Mom, don't be so uptight. If we have to do something as dumb as this, we might as well have a sense of humor about it.”
“It wasn't humorous,” Olympia insisted. “It was rude and annoying. Is he going to dye it back?”
“Of course he is. He just did it to be funny.”
“He wasn't.” Olympia looked seriously aggravated, and by then, Ginny was crying again. She had just heard from Steve on her cell phone. He was no longer sure he was coming. He thought it might be too hard for her. Ginny told him between sobs that it would be harder if he didn't. She damn near begged him, while Olympia cringed listening to her, and finally he agreed to come. If Olympia's thoughts of him could have killed him, the infamous Steve would have been dead on the spot. Instead, he was going to be her dinner guest, and break her daughter's heart on one of the most important nights of her life.
At six o'clock the girls put on their dresses, and Olympia stood looking at them with tears in her eyes. The moment was unforgettable. They looked like fairy princesses, and Veronica's stole demurely covered her back.
At seven they met with the photographer, while their mother stayed upstairs to get dressed. Her pantyhose ran the moment she put them on, but fortunately she'd brought a spare pair. Her zipper caught when she put on her dress, but she managed to salvage it somehow. She stopped for a minute, tried to slow down, and caught her breath. Her hair looked fine. She had put her makeup on, and it looked decent with her dress. Her shoes were killing her, but she expected that. Her evening bag was perfect. She put on the pearls that had been her mother's, and the earrings that matched. She looked in the mirror, and everything seemed all right to her. She put lipstick on, put on the matching navy blue stole, just as her cell phone rang. Harry said he had put his mother in the limousine. It was seven-fifteen. And he said Max was feeling better.