Stewart walked into the kitchen along with Haskell. “Turn around and let me see the dress,” Stewart said.
Helen Louise turned to face the two men, and Stewart whistled appreciatively. “Absolute knockout,” he said. Haskell smiled broadly and nodded in agreement.
“You two look pretty spiffy yourselves,” Helen Louise said. “Don’t you agree, Charlie?”
Stewart and Haskell wore black suits similar to mine, with white shirts and brightly colored ties. I had to admit that, with their muscular frames and broad chests and shoulders, they looked more impressive in their well-fitted suits than I did in mine.
I laughed. “I do, although if the three of us stand around together at the party, the other guests are liable to think we’re undertakers.”
Haskell laughed, but Stewart shook a finger at me. “Don’t even bring up any subject related to death,” Stewart said. “No need to put those vibes into the ether.”
“I didn’t realize you were superstitious,” Helen Louise said. “You can’t taint the atmosphere by simply mentioning a subject.”
“I’m not, particularly,” Stewart said. “Superstitious, that is. I simply don’t want the notion planted in my brain. I’ll have to flirt outrageously with all the attractive men and good-looking women at the party now to dislodge it.”
Haskell snorted. “As if you needed an excuse.”
Stewart ignored that sally. “Shall we saunter over? It’s two minutes to seven.”
“Do you want us to be the first ones there?” Helen Louise asked. “Isn’t that a bit uncouth?” Her lips twitched.
“What if it is?” Stewart said. “I want to be able to watch as everyone else arrives.”
“Whatever for?” I asked.
Haskell rolled his eyes. “So he can act like he’s a reporter on the red carpet and comment on what they all look like in their party clothes.”
Helen Louise linked her arm with Stewart’s. “You can be Alice Roosevelt, and I’ll be your best girlfriend.”
Haskell looked puzzled, and I explained the reference. Alice Roosevelt was once supposed to have said that if you knew anything bad about someone, you should come sit next to her and share the dirt. He rolled his eyes again when I finished my explanation.
After a brief check on the kittens, we stopped in the hallway for Helen Louise to retrieve her coat. Haskell opened the door, and out we went. I had looked out the living room window earlier to see whether Gerry’s decorations were back in place. They were. Alight, they looked as obnoxious as I anticipated. I wouldn’t get the full effect, I was sure, until I was standing right in front of them.
Two cars occupied space in front of Gerry’s house. Some neighbors would no doubt walk to the party. Two children, girls around nine or ten, stood on the sidewalk gawking. They squealed in excitement and pointed at various parts of the display as we walked past them and up the walk.
Gerry’s assistant, Jincy—whose last name I had forgotten already—opened the door to us. She recognized me and nodded, and I quickly introduced the others. She stood aside and waved us in. “Down the hall and on the right at the back is the den,” she said to Helen Louise. “You can leave your coat there.”
Helen Louise thanked her, and I walked with her to deposit the coat on one of the chairs we found in the room. At least, I thought it was a chair. It looked horribly uncomfortable to me, an object shaped like the number five, but without the bar at the top.
Helen Louise and I looked at each other and shrugged. We walked back down the hall to rejoin Stewart and Haskell. The former, I noted, had placed himself beside the door to the living room. He faced the front door, so evidently Haskell hadn’t been completely joking when he mentioned the red-carpet routine.
Haskell stood with Jincy near the front door, engaged in conversation with her. Helen Louise and I approached Stewart.
“Any arrivals while we were putting away my coat?” Helen Louise asked.
Stewart shook his head. “Shouldn’t be long now, though.”
There was still no sign of our hostess. I wondered about that, and then it dawned on me that she was probably either in the kitchen dealing with the catering staff or upstairs waiting until more people arrived. Then she would sweep down the stairs the way Loretta Young used to in her television show, smile benignly upon her suitably appreciative guests, and deign to converse with us.
Good grief. I’m starting to sound like Stewart. I had to suppress a chuckle at the thought. Later on, I would have to share that with him.
Helen Louise, Stewart, and I chatted while we waited for our hostess to put in an appearance and for more guests to arrive. Waiters came by with champagne and indicated that food awaited us in both the living and dining rooms. We each accepted a glass of champagne. I didn’t have a refined enough palate to discern one champagne from another. After a sip—it went down smoothly—I looked to Helen Louise, who did have a refined palate.
“Bollinger,” she said appreciatively. “Evidently our hostess has expensive tastes, or else she’s out to impress.”
“Provided,” Stewart said with a grin, “that anyone else besides you tonight can tell Bollinger from the bargain bubbly most people serve at parties like this.”
Helen Louise grinned and gestured toward the door. “Here comes someone who can tell.”
Surprised, I glanced at the door to see Milton and Tammy Harville pause to talk to Jincy while Haskell moved to join us.
“Milton?” I said. “Or Tammy?”
“Milton,” Helen Louise responded. “He’s quite knowledgeable. We often talk about wines when he comes by the bistro. When Tammy isn’t with him, of course.” She sipped her champagne. “When they’re together Milton hardly says a word, particularly not to me or any of my female staff.”
“I didn’t realize it was as bad as that,” I said.
“That’s why he tries to keep her out of the drugstore,” Stewart said. “The woman is obsessed. He can hardly do his job when she’s there because she dogs him like you wouldn’t believe.” He shook his head. “I’ve seen it a few times, and it ain’t pretty.”
I looked at Tammy, glowering at Jincy while Milton conversed with her. A peroxide blonde, Tammy had a hard look about her. She seemed permanently disgruntled whenever I had the misfortune to run into her. Milton served as the target for all her discontent. He couldn’t seem to measure up to what she required, no matter how he tried. She ran him down all the time, even right in front of him. I wondered why he didn’t seek a divorce on the grounds of mental cruelty.
We continued to watch the trio near the door. From what I could tell, Milton was making an effort to end the conversation with Jincy. He kept darting sideways glances at his wife. Tammy continued to glower. Finally, she seemed to have reached her boiling point. She grabbed Milton’s arm and towed him away from the door, leaving Jincy open-mouthed and Milton beet red.
Tammy pulled her husband into the living room without any acknowledgment of the four of us by the door. Milton glanced at us, his expression a sad mixture of apology and shame.
Stewart sighed. “Did you see what Tammy was wearing? I swear, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman with a knack for always picking out the most unflattering outfit she can find.”
I hadn’t paid any particular attention to what Tammy was wearing myself. I had been too busy watching her face. Helen Louise had noted the outfit, however. “Can’t argue with you, Stewart,” she said. “Her skin looks like leather from all those hours in the tanning bed. Wearing gray with blonde hair and a complexion like that makes her look so much older than she really is.”
I had to agree, now that I took a more critical look at Tammy, that the combination of gray dress, bleached hair, and tanned skin made her look way older than Milton.