by T B Audrey
“It’s a train wreck waiting to happen.” He looked at her pleadingly. “Which is why I was hoping you’d accompany me? You’re good with people; you can just…fill in any awkward silences or disputes that might happen. After all, you do it for a living.”
“Tommy,” she said in annoyance, “did you make me come all the way out here so I could act as a mediator?”
Tommy shrugged shyly. “Well, yeah.” He smiled at her hopefully, though it was tinged with guilt, “Please…?”
Beatrice squealed as her high heel sunk into the damp forest dirt for the third time.
“Why didn’t you tell me to change out of my work clothes?” she demanded, hopping on one foot as she tried to wrench her buried shoe out of the soil.
Tommy stopped a few feet in front of her and he began making his way back toward her in the darkness.
“I’m sorry,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulder to steady her. “I didn’t think about it. I’m an idiot.”
She slid her shoe back onto her foot, trying to hide how flustered she felt being so close to him and how much she enjoyed the warmth of his arm around her.
“It’s ok,” she said, unable to hold a grudge in the wake of his obvious regret. “I suppose, since it’s a dinner party, I should be dressed nicely anyway.”
“Thanks for helping me out, Bee. I really appreciate it and I promise I’ll pay you back somehow,” he said.
He took his arm from around her shoulder and grabbed her hand. “Follow me,” he said, guiding her between the trees. “We’re almost there.”
After a few more seconds of weaving in and out of trees, the two came to a small slope, which ended in a little valley clearing. It was too dark for Beatrice to make out much about the house, other than that it was quite large, but she got the impression of wood and rustic architecture as they approached the big porch that surrounded it.
Tommy reached out and grabbed the knob, swinging the door open in one fluid motion.
Beatrice looked at him in a reprimanding manner. “You really need to learn how to lock things,” she said sarcastically.
He shrugged. “Who’s going to steal anything way out here?” he said. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”
As they walked into the foyer, Beatrice realized that her first impression of the house had been correct. The inside was wooden with rustic metal trimmings.
Various animals were mounted on the walls and placed around the room in creepy, statuesque-like poses. Among them were mounted deer heads, a bobcat sitting quietly in the corner, and what looked like some kind of wolf standing to the right of the door, but the most amazing display in the room was the scene tucked into the left corner.
Three deer were posed there. They stood clustered on a large rock covered with artificial grass. Their heads were raised in alarm and their ears frozen mid-swivel. Above them, seemingly having just leaped off of the loft that served as the second level of the room, a cougar hung from nearly invisible wires attached to the ceiling. It looked down on its unsuspecting prey with snarling teeth and bared claws.
“Your uncle built this with the money he made off a diner?” Beatrice asked unbelievingly.
Tommy laughed. “No, after the diner shut down a friend of my uncle approached him about a gold mining prospect in Alaska. He put his whole life savings into the venture.” He moved his arm in a sweeping gesture across the room. “It paid off.”
“Apparently,” Beatrice said.
Tommy shut the door behind them. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you around.”
They walked down a long hallway lined with more hanging deer heads and turned into what Beatrice assumed served as the dining room. It had high ceilings and a plush rug, on top of which sat a large handcrafted wooden table and primitive looking, high-backed wooden chairs.
“This is where we will be having dinner,” Tommy said. Suddenly he groaned, “I just remembered something I left in the car. I’ll have to go back up to the diner parking lot to get it. Will you be alright here by yourself?”
“Yeah, sure.” She nodded.
He turned to leave. “I won’t be long,” he said. “Make yourself comfortable, and feel free to look around if you want.”
He disappeared around the door, and she could hear his footsteps become fainter as he made his way down the hallway; finally stopping completely as the heavy door banged shut behind him like an exclamation point.
She looked around her. There were more mounted animals in this room. She shuddered. They hadn’t bothered her much when Tommy had been there, but now that she was alone they had taken on a somewhat sinister feeling.
She licked her lips nervously, glancing at a stuffed panther head that seemed to be staring at her from across the room, its rigid lips revealing a row of sharp, glistening fangs.
The house creaked loudly. She hadn’t noticed as they had chatted, but the groans and creaks of the old wood sounded like the cracking of old bones and the wind blowing in the trees, which surrounded the house so densely, sounded like whispers.
BANG!
She jumped and looked at the door across the room, her heart racing widely in her chest.
What was that?! She thought wildly.
Tommy? No, He couldn’t possibly be back already. Anyway, she hadn’t heard the door slam, and if he had come back through it, she would have heard it open and heard his footsteps down the hall. No. It couldn’t be him, but who could it be?
She began backing toward the way they had come in, keeping a close eye on the door across the room. She reached behind her, feeling for the doorknob. She found it and wrapped her hand around the cold metal. Twisting it quietly, she began to inch it open. That was when she heard it.
Footsteps in the hall. They weren’t coming from the direction of the front door, but from farther down, deeper in the house. She froze, her breath catching in her chest. She let go of the knob and put her hands against the wood.
What should she do? The footsteps came closer… closer… closer. She leaned with her back against the doorframe, shuddering as the footsteps edged ever nearer to the dining room door.
Finally they were there, right outside the door.
Pass, she urged silently, as the footsteps drew nearer. Pass, pass….
The footsteps stopped. She looked at the doorknob apprehensively. Slowly, it began to turn. She pressed her body against the doorframe, hoping her weight would keep it from opening.
A bad tempered groan came from the other side. She felt the door bump forward as it was rammed from the other side. Should she make a run for the other door? Should she have run sooner? Was it too late now?
Someone hit the door from the other side again, harder this time, and the door popped open about an inch before her weight pushed it back closed.
She knew she couldn’t keep this up for long. Tommy, she thought desperately, where are you and why couldn’t you just lock your door!?
“Stupid, stuck door…” she heard a male voice grumble on the other side, followed by another groan as whomever it was got ready to hit the door again.
She readied herself. As the man hit the door, it bumped open a few inches. There was nothing she could do to stop it. She squealed slightly as she almost lost her balance.
“Who’s there?” the man’s voice said. “What kind of a game are you playing?! Let me in this second!” he demanded.
She watched in horror as a large, rough hand snaked through the opening in the door and began groping the air. She turned quickly, opening the door a little wider and then slamming it with all her might on the man’s exposed arm.
He screamed in pain and quickly withdrew his arm. Beatrice slammed the door shut and, while a myriad of curse words issued out of the mouth of the man on the other side, took the opportunity to grab a chair from the dining room table and jam it under the doorknob.
Beatrice heard the front door open and footsteps approaching quickly at a run down the hall.
“What happened?!” she heard Tomm
y’s voice exclaim.
“Someone closed the door on my arm,” she heard the other man reply.
She opened the door slowly, peeking out. She saw Tommy standing over a man in the hall. The man was about mid-thirties and balding on top. He was wearing what looked like a chef’s uniform.
“I…I thought you were a robber,” Beatrice said apologetically.
Tommy looked up from the man to her. “He’s the caterer.” He saw her bite her lip worriedly. “It’s okay. I should have told you he was here. I didn’t think about it.”
“It’s okay!” the caterer exclaimed. “She almost broke my arm.”
Tommy reached down a hand to help him up. “She was scared, Peter.”
The man got up and dusted himself off. “Yeah, well, I never would have taken this gig if I knew bodily harm was a part of it.”
Tommy looked at him sharply. “Well, I assure you that is the only bodily harm you’ll encounter this evening.”
Peter looked at her with annoyance. “Better be…” he muttered, as he turned and walked back to the kitchen.
Tommy watched Peter retreating back to the kitchen with a worried look on his face.
“I’m so, so sorry,” Beatrice said.
Tommy looked back at her and smiled. “No,” he said, waving it away with his hand, “don’t be. Peter can be difficult.” He began ushering her back into the dining room, “The others will be arriving shortly.”
“So, you two know each other?”
He stopped and blinked at her uncomprehendingly. “What?”
“You and the caterer… you said he could be difficult, like you know each other.”
He nodded. “Oh, yes, right.” he said. “His restaurant is just a little way from my house in Summerton. I go there sometimes.”
“What a coincidence.”
“What is?” he said, as he began smoothing out the tablecloth, trying to give the corners a perfect crease. Beatrice knew him well enough to know that his perfectionism stemmed from nervous energy and wished she could do more to help at this dinner party, which he was so obviously upset over.
“That your uncle would hire a caterer that happened to live down the street from you,” she answered.
“Right, yes, you know,” he said, straightening and placing his hands on his hips. “That did strike me as odd, too.” He shrugged. “Small world, I suppose.”
The doorbell rang and Tommy’s eyes grew large with anxiety. “That will be some of them, I guess. God, other than the funeral, I haven’t seen most of these people in ages. What am I going to say to them? Oh well, no time to worry about that now.” He raked his hands through his hair nervously, trying to flatten his naturally messy locks.
He walked out of the room, but then his head popped back into sight around the doorframe, still plucking distractedly at a particularly rebellious cowlick.
“I have to warn you, my relatives can be awfully rude. I apologize in advance if any of them are terrible to you.”
Beatrice could hear their voices coming down the hall as she waited in the dining room. She was nervous. She couldn’t deny that. She snickered a little. Just a few hours ago she never would have imagined that she would be host to a dinner party for a group of people she had never met and whom her co-host didn’t even like.
She tried to make out as much as she could about the people approaching from their voices. There were two of them, a man and a woman. The woman was going on and on about her little boy who was in private school, to which Tommy was making polite and cordial responses as one does when people go on and on about their children. Presently, Beatrice heard the man interrupt to say, quite pointedly, just how expensive private school was these days and how they had been hoping his father would have been more generous to his own children.
This comment was met with silence by Tommy. Beatrice decided it wise to end the conversation then and there. She rose from her seat and left the dining room, meeting the party of three coming in the opposite direction down the hall.
The man was tall and imposing, his back and frame as rigid as his expensive looking suit. Even though he still looked fairly young, no older than his mid-forties, his hair was already almost white. Even the small, curt mustache that sat above his thin, pursed lips was a snowy color. The woman beside him was small and petite; she wore a pair of thin glasses over her cold, pale blue eyes. Her business suit was prim and pressed and her blond hair was wrapped tightly in a bun on top of her head.
“Bee,” Tommy exclaimed, delighted to see her, “this is Tad Maddus and his wife Amy.”
She walked forward and held out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
The two looked at her for several seconds with distaste before Tad hesitantly shook her hand. His wife, however, continued to stand with her hands by her side until Beatrice gave up.
Beatrice looked across at Tommy. “Is there a place more comfortable than the dining room where we can chat until the other guests arrive?”
“Right, yes.” He looked at her gratefully. “Good idea. The sitting room is right over here.” Tommy walked a little farther down the hall and opened a room on his left.
“I know where the sitting room is,” said Tad coldly. “It’s MY father’s house, remember?”
Tommy laughed nervously. “Of course, you do. How…how silly of me.”
The doorbell rang again. “That’ll be someone else. I’d better get it.”
“I’ll come with you,” Beatrice said, aware that proper manners would require her to accompany the first guests into the sitting room, but reluctant to do so.
She caught up to Tommy just as he was opening the door. Outside stood a woman who appeared to be in her thirties or early forties, her light brown hair hung in two braids that reached nearly to her waist. She was wearing bohemian clothing, a gauzy blouse with a long green skirt.
“Rene,” greeted Tommy. “How are you?”
She pushed passed him and walked into the house, seemingly unaware of his greeting.
“Daddy always had terrible taste,” she said, looking at the stuffed animals with disdain. “I mean really, taxidermy? What is this, Little House on the Prairie?”
Beatrice came forward. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
Rene turned and cast a stoic look at her. “Who are you?”
Beatrice froze at her abruptness. “I’m, uh, a friend of Tommy’s.”
Rene turned back to Tommy. “I saw Tad’s car at the diner. Where are they?”
“In the study. I’ll take you back there.” He stopped, realizing his mistake. “Though I’m sure you could find your own way.”
As they began walking back to the study, the doorbell rang again. Tommy stopped, looking torn between answering the door and escorting his guest to the study.
“I’ll get it,” volunteered Beatrice.
Tommy smiled. “Thanks, Bee.”
As the two disappeared into the hall, Beatrice turned back and opened the front door. On the other side stood a young man and woman. The man was in his late twenties, tall and good-looking, dressed casually in a suit with no tie. The woman was younger then he was, maybe twenty-two or twenty-three. She had flowing blond hair, a party dress and lots of makeup.
The man’s interest perked up considerably when he saw Beatrice in the doorway.
“Well, hello, and who might you be?” he asked, flirtingly.
The smile dropped from Beatrice’s face. “A friend of Tommy’s.”
The man lifted his eyebrows suggestively. “A good friend?”
“Very.”
He smiled. “We’ll see.” He reached out a hand. “Maximus Maddus. Max for short.”
She took his hand and shook it. Meanwhile, the girl with him looked between them with suspicion.
“Max, are you flirting with her?” she asked, her voice squeaking with indignation.
Max blinked and turned, seemingly only now noticing she was standing there,
“Of course not, darling,” he said, simultaneously winking at Be
atrice. “Does that sound like something I would do?”
If the girl saw the wink, she didn’t notice. She wrapped her arm possessively through Max’s,
“No…” she simpered.
Beatrice once again held her hand out. “My name is Beatrice,” she said. “How do you do?”
“This is my friend,” said Max, speaking for the girl. “Her name is Eve.”
Eve stuck out her lower lip. “Girlfriend,” she corrected.
“Right. Yes, that,” Max said flippantly. “Well, Eve, don’t act like such a dolt, shake her hand.”
Eve hesitantly reached forward and shook Beatrice’s hand, looking at her with dull, uninterested eyes. It reminded Beatrice very much of the same expression that might be seen in a dog’s eyes as it obeys a command from its master without quite knowing what it’s doing or why.
“Come in,” Beatrice said. “I’ll show you to the study.”
A half an hour later found them all seated awkwardly around the big table in the dining room. Beatrice wondered to herself what the chef had made, not that it mattered much. She wasn’t very hungry. After all, she and Tommy had eaten sandwiches in the diner only about two hours before. She rolled her eyes slightly. Why in the world had he brought dinner when they were about to go to a dinner party?
“What’s taking so long? I thought we were supposed to have started by now?” asked Tad, quite rudely, in Beatrice’s opinion.
Tommy rubbed his hands together nervously. “Yes, well, the evening will begin soon. I’m sure he’s just running a little late,” he said, looking at Tad pointedly. “The chef,” he said, turning to explain to Beatrice.
“Who else?” Beatrice smiled.
The doorbell rang, causing Tommy to partially jump to his feet.
Max chuckled. “Who else indeed?” he said peevishly, to which Eve shot him a reprimanding look.
“Who could that be?” said Tommy, excusing himself and slipping out of the room.
Max leaned back and put his hands behind his head. “I do hope he hurries. The faster we can get this out of the way, the faster I can eat.”
Tad glared at him from across the table. “Knock it off!” he said. “If you can’t ACT decently, you shouldn’t be a part of this.”
