By Invitation Only

by Dorothea Benton Frank

This was another indication he was considering putting his love back on the market. I knew my brother.

  I handed Alden his coffee and his muffin with a napkin. He placed it on the counter across from me and the cash register and began to peel away the plastic wrap. He took a bite and moaned.

  “You do make the best muffins,” he said.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Let’s go get another load of produce,” Floyd said to Fred.

  “I’m ready,” Fred said and stacked up all their empty boxes, which he had broken down to recycle.

  “We’ll be right back,” Floyd said to me and Alden. “You need anything from the house?”

  “No, I’m fine. Thanks!”

  My brother and son left through the back door. There was something in the air that came in with Alden.

  “What’s going on, Alden?”

  “Funny you should ask. Well, it seems that my sister’s daughter is getting married and I need a date to the wedding. I was wondering if you’d do me the honor?”

  “And be your date?” Oh, God, I thought. Last thing in the world I want is for him to think a little squeeze on the dance floor last night meant something more than what it had been.

  “Yes. I thought it would be good to show up with an age-appropriate beautiful woman, and you’re the only one I want to go with.”

  “Oh, Alden, you old flatterer. It depends on the date.”

  “Saturday before Thanksgiving,” he said and smiled. I could see he thought we were playing cat and mouse and that I’d be his date, no problem. Why would I ever have a conflicting date?

  “Actually, I have to be in Chicago that weekend.”

  “Oh? Visiting Shelby’s parents?”

  “Sort of. They’re giving a party for their friends, so of course I have to be there.”

  “I see.” He looked at me curiously. “Are you okay?”

  “You know what? No, I’m really not. My only child is getting married and I haven’t felt so emotional since the day he was born. I feel like I’m losing him.”

  “You taking anyone with you?”

  “Yes, Floyd, of course. And my friend Kathy.”

  “Kathy Christie?”

  “Yes, who else would it be?”

  “Well, there are about a million Kathys in South Carolina.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  He reached across the counter and lifted my chin with his finger.

  “Diane? If you need me, I’ll beg off from my niece’s wedding. It’s not a big deal.”

  “You are so nice, Alden. But I think I’m actually going to be all right. Susan, Shelby’s mother, gave Kathy some attitude last night and Kathy wants to have my back.”

  “So your back’s covered?”

  “Looks like it.”

  I could see the disappointment in his eyes, as though he and Kathy were interchangeable. At that moment I was more concerned with how I was going to get through the rest of my life without my son at my side than with Alden’s imaginary romance with me.

  Chapter 9

  Cocktails in Chicago

  “The men will fear you and the women will wish me dead!” Susan said.

  “Sí! It is true.” Alejandro said.

  “Do I look all right?” I asked Alejandro. “Can you close the hook at the top of my zipper?” I turned my back to him.

  “You look ravishing, amorcita,” he said and closed the hook and eye.

  “You don’t think this dress is too tight?”

  It was super stretched across my hips, so much so that if I sat it might split. I was doomed to an evening of standing in my torturous but fabulous pumps.

  “That’s what I like about it,” he said. “What’s that perfume?”

  “Houbigant. Queen Victoria wore it. It’s made from six hundred different flowers.”

  “Well, my darling, you’ll be the queen of Chicago tonight.”

  He could be so sweet. I looked at him in his black velvet blazer over his starched white shirt and thought how lucky I was to be married to such a handsome man. When he looked at me the way he was looking at me then, I felt a little weak in the knees.

  “Oh, Alejandro, you are such a treasure! You know, you have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.” I smiled at him and thought that maybe we could get some ooh la la on the night’s agenda. “You make me feel like a girl again!”

  “Hush now, or I’ll have to throw you on the bed and make babies with you!” He was making a joke, of course.

  “You’re so crazy. And I’m so nervous.”

  “Why? This is your millionth party! No one throws a soiree like you do.”

  “I hope you’re right, but the caterer was late, the piano tuner was late, the flowers were droopy, the cigar roller isn’t here yet! Bad signs!”

  The doorman buzzed. I hurried to the call box and asked, “Yes?”

  “Mr. Floyd English, Ms. Diane Stiftel, and Ms. Kathy Christie to see you, ma’am?”

  “Oh, yes! Send them right up!” I said. “Alejandro! Diane and her friend and Floyd are here! They’re an hour early!” Who shows up an hour early?

  “Oh, my dear,” he said, “don’t panic. I’ll make them a cocktail.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be right along in two minutes.”

  “I’ve got this,” he said and smiled that Hollywood smile of his that put everyone at ease.

  I was still in our dressing room. I took a look at myself in the full-length triple mirror. My only daughter was getting married, and to my complete dismay she was marrying beneath her station in life. I hoped Diane and Floyd were going to look a little less like Mr. and Mrs. Old MacDonald. I had already heard Judy CQ’s clucking from around town. Her precious Shelby is going to marry a redneck! Yes! He’s a hick from the sticks! They have an actual barn filled with cows and they have chickens! I ruined my shoes in cow manure. And they run a little fresh market on the side of the road! I swear it! And, get this! They make jam and jelly! Who knows? Maybe he can drive a tractor. Take a good look at the hottie uncle. I would do my part to help them show well.

  I had little laugh lines around my eyes. I’d just had Restylane injections and a session of Thermage on my face and neck, but I still had a bit of a wattle. Despite my dermatologist’s best efforts and eight thousand dollars, there was still some waffling visible on my chin. God, I hate getting old, I thought. Well, I didn’t hate getting old so much as I hated looking old. Maybe I should stop wearing lip liner. That was another thing. My lips seemed to be shrinking and fading. All the magazines this fall had touted big eyes and pale lips. But I still loved red lipstick, and anyway, who cared?

  I opened my vault and took out a pair of diamond earrings and a big diamond brooch. I put them on and stood back. It was just right. I felt better. I didn’t need a bracelet. It wouldn’t be nice to rub the obvious in Diane’s face.

  “Okay,” I said to no one, “it’s showtime!”

  I walked out to my living room and Chef Joho himself put a coupe of champagne in my hand.

  “You look amazing!” he said to me. “Never more beautiful!”

  “Oh, Joho! Thank you! And thank you for taking care of the food tonight!”

  “For my favorite patron? This is my little gift for our Shelby and her fiancé!”

  He did not mean there would be no bill. He meant lending his considerable star power to the evening by making a personal appearance was his gift. To be sure, there would be a bill and it would be staggering. He owned Everest, probably the most delicious and glamorous restaurant in Chicago.

  “It’s no little gift! It’s an enormous thrill! We are so honored to have you here.”

  He gave a polite bow and returned to the kitchen. I thought, wait until Judy sees Joho here. She’s going to kill herself.

  I saw Alejandro on the terrace with Diane, Kathy, and Floyd. As if Floyd could sense me walking across my rug, he ran his hand through his hair and turned to face me. Lord, that man had a powerful vibe. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears.


  “Hello, hello! Welcome to Chicago!” I said as serenely as I could, giving each of them double air kisses near their cheeks. “Let’s get you inside so I can take your coats!”

  It was very damp and chilly on the terrace. November was unpredictable. Some years you could go anywhere with just a sweater tied around your shoulders. Others might find you bundled up for a blizzard. Today’s weather was ominous, a warning that a sinister winter was just around the corner.

  “It’s so nice to be here!” Diane said. “Your view is incredible!”

  “Thank you!”

  My floral designer from Ashland Addison had buried tiny white lights in all our shrubs, and they did lend a certain magic to the evening. As he always said, for a great event you have to create a bit of theater.

  We all stepped into the living room, where our very special pianist had just arrived and was playing chords, testing the strength of the piano’s movement. Everyone shed their coats and handed them to a member of the waitstaff. Diane and Kathy were both wearing very similar sleeveless little black dresses. Kathy wore a triple strand of pearls, which appeared to be real, and Diane had on a very large retro brooch of colored stones set to resemble a flower. It was a pretty fabulous fake. I was impressed and more than a little envious of the muscle tone of her upper arms, but I guessed that came from manual labor. I mean, it wasn’t like she had a personal trainer, I’m sure.

  “Ramsey! Darling! How are you?” I said to the pianist.

  “I’m fine. Isn’t this a wonderful night?” he said.

  “Diane, do you like jazz?” Alejandro said.

  “You’re not Ramsey Lewis, are you?” Kathy Christie asked in a mousy little voice.

  “Who else would I be?” Ramsey said and laughed.

  “Oh, my goodness,” Diane said. “I have an album of yours from I guess 1965? The In Crowd!”

  Ramsey played a few bars and I thought Kathy and Diane were going to faint. Even Floyd seemed impressed.

  A waiter appeared at my side.

  “Let’s get our guests a cocktail, shall we?” I said.

  “Excellent idea,” Alejandro said. “What can we get for you? Diane?”

  “We’ve known Ramsey for years,” I said. “Alejandro is a real jazz aficionado.”

  Everyone gave a drink order, Ramsey began to play, and soon we were toasting the children.

  “Cheers!” we all said to one another. “Let’s all drink to happiness!”

  I watched as Floyd wandered away. He appeared to be searching for something. I followed him.

  “Powder room?” I asked.

  “Yes, please,” he said.

  “First door on the right,” I said.

  I went back to the others and just then Frederick and Shelby arrived with Ashley Hargrove, Shelby’s best friend since childhood and also her maid of honor.

  “Hello, my sweethearts! Come say hello to everyone!” I said to them.

  They handed their coats to a waiter and came toward us.

  “Hello, Mrs. Stiftel,” Shelby said and gave her the tiniest of all hugs. “Frederick and I are so pleased you and Mr. English could come! And Ms. Christie? It’s so nice to see you again.”

  We were not really touchy-feely people.

  “Shelby, you make me feel like I was born on Noah’s ark! Please. Call me Miss Kathy like a nice southern girl would do.”

  Okay, Kathy laughed, and I’m sure she didn’t mean for what she said to sound like she had taken the liberty to correct a faux pas. But that’s how it sounded. Her words landed with a thud. At least to my ears.

  “She’s not a nice southern girl,” I said as evenly as I could. “She’s a nice midwestern girl. And she’s the best thing that ever happened to Frederick.”

  “Absolutely!” Frederick said and turned to Floyd, who had just returned. “This is what happens when there are too many hens in the henhouse.” He muttered this, pretending we couldn’t hear him when of course we could. Somehow his dumb joke defused the miff anyway.

  Ashley said, “I’m just going to freshen up.”

  “Okay. Do you want me to get you a glass of champagne?” Shelby said.

  “Of course!” Ashley said. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Pretty girl,” Floyd said as Ashley walked away.

  I saw him eyeballing our Toulouse-Lautrec lithographs, hung as a group over the chaise lounge. Did he have an interest in art? I should show him the Renoir in Alejandro’s study. Better yet, I’d like to show him the Degas in my bedroom. Naughty girl, I said to myself.

  “And sweet too,” I said.

  “So, Susan, tell us about the wedding plans,” Diane said.

  “Oh, my goodness! Well, we have the ballroom at the Waldorf reserved because our guest list is already over three hundred people. And the Duke Ellington Orchestra is going to play, thanks to Ramsey, which makes me so happy I can’t even tell you. Too bad Mercer’s no longer with us.”

  “My wife never does anything halfway,” Alejandro said, as though he was down to his last dollar. “Tell them about the butterflies.”

  Ashley reappeared and whispered something to Shelby. Shelby then whispered something to Alejandro.

  “Okay, so the cocktail hour is going to take place outdoors on the rooftop bar of the hotel, which is very beautiful.”

  “Excuse me,” Alejandro said. “It seems we have a little problem.”

  “Of course,” I said and continued. “When Shelby and Frederick arrive and all our guests are assembled, we’re going to release twenty thousand butterflies! Isn’t that marvelous?”

  Diane’s face turned white.

  “Wow,” Floyd said.

  Kathy said nothing.

  “What’s wrong?” I said.

  “I don’t know,” Diane said. “Three hundred people? Duke Ellington’s orchestra? Twenty thousand butterflies? It’s just that it seems very over the top to me, but what do I know? And aren’t butterflies having problems these days? Milkweed shortage?”

  I stood back and looked at her and thought I might like to kill her. How dare she insult me this way in my own home?

  “Well, Shelby’s our only child and our friends have expectations,” I said and wondered if the butterflies were too much. Wait! Now I’m doubting myself? Was I going to allow this bumpkin to cast me in such a light that it felt like my only daughter’s wedding was going to be a crass display of conspicuous consumption?

  “It just seems like a lot,” she said, continuing to dig her own grave.

  “Oh, well, you shouldn’t worry about it anyway. When my best friend Judy CQ’s daughter married that nice Indian fellow last summer at the Ritz-Carlton in Laguna Beach, they arrived at their ceremony on elephants. Of course, the wedding was outdoors on the grounds,” I said, trying to lighten my own growing annoyance. “Over the ocean. It was absolutely magnificent!”

  “Elephants,” Floyd said flatly.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw a flood of guests coming in, and at the same time I saw Alejandro with the toilet plunger heading for the powder room. What in the world? Had Floyd done something reprehensible to my plumbing? Then I saw the water coming from the bathroom, overflowing the hall, and heading toward my precious vegetable-dyed runner from Agra.

  “Oh, no,” I said.

  “Listen,” Diane said, “I don’t mean to criticize.”

  That was it. I couldn’t take another word from her.

  “No, you listen. This is my wedding! Not yours! All you have to do is wear beige and keep your mouth shut.”

  Chapter 10

  All About Beige

  “What kind of manners does she have?” Virnell said.

  “Bad!” Diane said.

  I was so shocked, I didn’t know what to say. Was I rude? Did she really tell me to buy a beige dress and shut my mouth?

  Floyd swung around to see what was so horrifying to Susan, and in the time it would take you to say her toilet erupted like Mount Vesuvius, he scooped up her runner from the floor.

&nbs
p; “Where would you like me to put this, ma’am?” he said.

  “Come with me,” she said, and Floyd followed her down the hall.

  I stood there with Fred and Shelby until they too came to their senses and went to help Susan.

  “I’ll call the super,” Shelby said. “Get the towels from my bathroom to sop up the water.”

  “On it,” Fred said and hurried down the hall.

  I mean, it wasn’t funny, of course, but I was biting the insides of my cheeks so hard I could taste blood. Sorry, it was hilarious. It couldn’t happen to a bigger stinker.

  Dozens of guests were arriving, and every time the elevator doors opened, another swarm would storm the foyer, discarding coats and wraps in the overloaded arms of a staffer. Trays of champagne circulated overhead and there was more caviar on little pancakes being offered than I’d ever seen in my life, not that I’d seen a lot. The food went on and on

  “May I offer you a Kobe beef slider?” the handsome waiter said.

  Floyd said, “Sure.” And popped it in his mouth.

  A moment later another waiter appeared.

  “Would you care for pâté de foie gras on toast points?”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  A moment later another waiter. “Do you want to try a lobster bite?”

  And another. “Toro sashimi with a dollop of wasabi.”

  The food went on and on. I couldn’t chew fast enough. Needless to say, we didn’t eat like this in the Lowcountry. Well, maybe some people did, but we kept to a pretty traditional regional menu.

  “I don’t know what the hell I’m eating, but it’s delicious,” Floyd said.

  Yet another waiter offered us something baked in puff pastry.

  “Crab étouffée en croute?” he said with a smile that belonged on the big screen.

  “Sure,” Floyd said and took two. “Thank you.”

  I shook my head at him. Floyd was simply bedazzled by it all. It was dazzling. Dazzling, sparkling, glamorous, and about as far away from the reality of my own life as I imagined I would ever go.

  I was in a daze from all the rich hors d’oeuvres, the exotic flowers that were everywhere, but most especially by all the preening in the room. It was like being in a room of beautiful parrots or toucans, each one trying to outfluff the other bird’s colorful feathers, even though the female birds were almost all wearing little black dresses.