This year Mim hired the choir from the Lutheran Church. They would go on at 9:30 P.M. so the early risers could carol and go home.
The acid-green of Mim’s emeralds glittered on her neck. Her dress, white, was designed to show off the jewels. Dangling emerald earrings matched the necklace, the aggregate value of which, retail at Tiffany’s, would have topped $200,000. Hot competition in the jewelry department came from BoomBoom Craycroft, who favored sapphires, and Miranda Hogendobber, who was partial to rubies. Miranda, not a wealthy woman, had inherited her sumptuous ruby and diamond necklace and earrings from her mother’s sister. Susan Tucker wore modest diamond earrings and Harry wore no major stones at all. For a woman, Mim’s Christmas party was like entering the lists. Who wore what counted for more than it should have and Harry couldn’t compete. She wished she were above caring but she would have liked to have one stunning pair of earrings, necklace, and ring. As it was she was wearing the misshapen gold earring.
The men wore green, red, or plaid cummerbunds with their tuxedos. Jim Sanburne wore mistletoe as a boutonniere. It produced the desired effect. Fitz-Gilbert sported a kilt, which also produced the desired effect. Women noticed his legs.
Fair escorted BoomBoom. Harry couldn’t figure out if this had been a longstanding date, if he was weakening, or if he was just a glutton for punishment. Blair accompanied Harry, which pleased her even if he did ask at the last minute.
Fitz-Gilbert passed out Macanudos. He kept his Cuban Montecristos for very special occasions or his personal whim, but a good Macanudo was as a Jaguar to the Montecristo Rolls-Royce. Blair gladly puffed on the gift cigar.
Susan and Ned joined them, as did Rick Shaw, in a tuxedo, and Cynthia Cooper wearing a velvet skirt and a festive red top. The little group chatted about the University of Virginia’s women’s basketball team, of which everyone was justly proud. Under the astute guidance of coach Debbie Ryan, the women had evolved into a national power.
Ned advised,“If only they’d lower the basket, though. I miss the dunking. Other than that it’s great basketball and those ladies can shoot.”
“Especially the three-pointers.” Harry smiled. She loved that basketball team.
“I’m partial to the guards myself,” Susan added. “Brookie’s hero is Debbie Ryan. Most girls want to grow up to be movie stars or players. Brookie wants to be a coach.”
“Shows sense.” Blair noticed Susan’s daughter in the middle of a group of eighth-graders. What an awkward age for everyone, the young person and the adults.
Market Shiflett joined them.“Some party. I wait for this each year. It’s the only time Mim invites me here unless she wants a delivery.” His face shone. He’d been downing Johnnie Walker Black, his special brand.
“She forgets,” Harry diplomatically told him.
“The hell she does,” Market rejoined. “How’d you like your last name to be Shiflett?”
“Market, if you’re living proof I’d be honored to have Shiflett as my last name.” Blair’s baritone soothed.
“Hear, hear.” Ned held up his glass.
The tinkle of shattered glass diverted their attention. BoomBoom had enraged Mrs. Drysdale by swinging her breasts under Patrick Drysdale’s aquiline nose. Patrick, not immune to such bounty, forgot he was a married man, a condition epidemic at such a large party. Missy threw a glass at BoomBoom’s head. Instead, it narrowly missed Dr. Chuck Beegle’s head and smashed against the wall.
Mim observed this. She cocked her head in Little Marilyn’s direction.
Little Marilyn glided over.“Now, Missy, honey, how about some coffee?”
“Did you see what that vixen did? Obviously, she has nothing to recommend her other than her … her tits!”
BoomBoom, half in the bag, laughed,“Oh, Missy, get over it. You’ve been jealous of me since sixth grade, when we were studying pirates and those boys called you a sunken chest.”
Her remark inflamed Missy, who reached into a bowl of cheese dip. The gooey yellow handful immediately decorated BoomBoom’s bosom.
“Damn you for getting that stuff on my sapphires!” BoomBoom pushed Missy.
“Is that what you call them … sapphires?” Missy shrieked.
Harry nudged Susan.“Let’s go.”
“May I assist?” Blair volunteered.
“No, this is women’s work,” Susan said lightly.
Under her breath Harry whispered to her friend,“If she swings she’ll take a roundhouse. BoomBoom can’t throw a straight punch.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Susan swiftly wrapped an arm around BoomBoom’s small waist, propelling her into the kitchen. The sputtering died away.
Harry, meanwhile, ducked a punch and came up behind Missy, putting both hands on Missy’s shoulders, and steered her toward the powder room. Little Marilyn followed.
“God, I hate her. I really hate her,” Missy seethed, her frosted hair bobbing with each step. “If I were really awful I’d wish her upon Patrick. She ruins every man she touches!” Missy realized who was shepherding her. “I’m sorry, Harry. I’m so mad I don’t know what I’m saying.”
“It’s all right, Missy. You do know what you’re saying and I agree.”
This opened a new line of conversation and Missy calmed down considerably. Once in the immense bathroom, Little Marilyn ran a washcloth under cold water and applied it to Missy’s forehead.
“I’m not drunk.”
“I know,” Little Marilyn replied. “But when I get rattled this works for me. Mother, of course, supports Upjohn Industries.”
“What?” Missy didn’t get the joke.
“Mummy has pills to calm her down, pills to pep her up, and pills to put her to sleep, forgive the expression.”
“Marilyn”—Missy put her hand over Little Marilyn’s—“That’s serious.”
“I know. She won’t listen to her family and if Hayden McIntire won’t prescribe them she simply goes to another doctor and pays him off. So Hayden goes on writing out the prescriptions. That way he has an idea of how much she’s taking.”
“Are you okay now?” Harry inquired of Missy.
“Yes. I lost my temper and I’ll go apologize to your mother, Marilyn. Really, Patrick’s not worth fussing over. He can look at anything he wants on the menu but he can’t order, that’s all.”
This was an expression both Harry and Little Marilyn heard frequently from married couples. Little Marilyn smiled and Harry shrugged. Little Marilyn stared at Harry, bringing her face almost nose to nose.
“Harry!”
“What?” Harry stepped backward.
“I had earrings like that, except that one looks—”
“Squashed?”
“Squashed,” Little Marilyn echoed. “And you only have one. Now that’s peculiar because I lost one. I wore them all the time, my Tiffany disks. Anyway, I thought I lost it on the tennis court. I never did find it.”
“I found this one.”
“Where?”
“In a possum’s nest.” Harry studied Little Marilyn intently. “I traded the possum for it.”
“Come on.” Missy reapplied her lipstick.
“Scout’s honor.” Harry raised her right hand. “Did you keep the mate?” she asked Little Marilyn.
“I’ll show you tomorrow. I’ll bring it to the post office.”
“I’d love to see what it looks like in pristine condition.”
Little Marilyn took a deep breath.“Harry, why can’t we be friends?”
Missy stopped applying her lipstick in mid-twirl. A Sanburne was being emotionally honest, sort of.
In the spirit of the season Harry smiled and replied,“We can try.”
Three quarters of an hour later Harry, having spoken to everyone on her way back from the bathroom, managed to reach Susan. She whispered the news in Susan’s ear.