In the dining room Cam suggested seating as people came in. She hoped to avoid the judge issues, so she sat Clancy Huggins and Telly Stevens at opposite ends on the same side of the table. She tried to alternate sponsors, pageant staff and media, hoping it would encourage camaraderie and took the last empty chair for herself, between Barbara Mackay, the third judge, and Jimmy Meares.
“He did not just spike his tea.” Evangeline’s voice was quiet, but she looked scandalized. Cam thought only she, Neil, and Barbara Mackay heard, but all of them turned to see Telly Stevens pouring from a silver flask into his goblet of sweet tea.
Evangeline made a point of pouring wine. It wasn’t as if they were asking people to teetotal. There’d been cocktails upstairs, and Cam wondered why Mr. Stevens hadn’t just brought a drink down if he preferred bourbon over wine.
Each quadrant of the table had a large bowl of pasta and one of salad, along with garlic bread, fancy olives, and fresh Parmesan. Cam helped her neighbors get served before serving herself.
When everyone had full plates, she surveyed the table. For the most part, people looked content. Cam thought it was possible Telly Stevens had his hand on Trish Tait’s leg, but Trish didn’t seem to object, and Judith Towers-Stevens was engaged in conversation with Holden Hobbes, who Cam knew could be terribly charming.
She had to stop herself rolling her eyes when her scanning reached her dad, down a few chairs on the same side of the table as she sat. Older women always latched onto him, and there he sat, with Lydia Fennewick on one side and Nell Norton on the other. Both looked completely enthralled with some story he was telling. Thankfully Nell was happily married, so this was just entertainment on her part.
Jimmy Meares mistook Cam’s leaning to look at her father as leaning toward him and he leaned toward her in return, so their shoulders touched.
Cam pulled back. She would not have been interested, even if she was available.
“There now. No need to be so jumpy. What’s your role in this little shindig?” he asked.
Cam frowned at him. “I planned this little shindig. I’m the event coordinator.”
“Oh! So you and I are sort of the same,” he said, pressing closer again.
His hair was slicked back and long enough to curl at the base of his neck. She supposed it was sort of a Hollywood casual formal thing. His eyes seemed a little too pleased with something.
“And why would you think that?” Cam asked, hoping she didn’t sound as annoyed as she felt.
“I’m the man behind the story—the planner—the one who makes it all happen.”
“Well, you have a talented artist to work with. I’m sure that helps.”
Annie snapped their picture and Cam gave her the super-secret glare. Jimmy hadn’t even noticed, what’s more, he seemed not to have heard her.
“And it seems you’re the force behind this deal. We ought to get together and compare notes.”
“As tempting as that is, I’m afraid I have too much to do.”
Cam stood and rushed out of the room, hoping she could think of some task to perform so she could return with a realistic story after Jimmy had cooled off.
She double-checked the dessert table. While they were eating, the staff was meant to clean up the sunroom so when Petunia and Nick returned with the trays of ice-cream delights, there would be room. The desserts were beautiful little squares, much like petit fours, but they had ice cream in them, so they were perfect for a warm day.
The room looked great. She’d known it would; she called Nick to make sure they’d be back by eight. When he answered she heard an annoyed Petunia in the background, so she whispered to Nick, “Just tell her I only made the call as an excuse to get out of talking to an obnoxious rich person.”
Nick laughed. If anything would work on Petunia, that ought to.
She caught Giselle, the Patricks’ housekeeper, on the way back to the dining room and suggested she open some of the bottles of red wine to let them breathe.
“Oui, mademoiselle,” Giselle said, and rushed off.
Giselle was no more French than Cam was, but the staff at La Fontaine seemed to play at it to make their jobs more interesting. She supposed there was no harm if it worked.
“Everything alright?” Evangeline asked as Cam came back in.
“Of course it is, love. Cammi’s on top of everything.” Mr. Patrick patted his wife’s leg and smiled.
“I was just double-checking on dessert,” Cam said. “With ice cream, timing matters. Eight o’clock, they said.”
She sat down again, pulling her chair just a little closer to Barbara Mackay. She would explain later. Barbara worked for the same newspaper as her boyfriend, Rob, so Cam knew her at least a little and she thought Barbara would understand.
Evangeline looked at her watch. “That’s about ten minutes. Looks like we timed this just right. Do you think the servants are ready for us to get a glass of wine?”
“I know they are,” Cam smiled.
Evangeline stood and clinked her glass. “Everyone, there’s no rush, but when y’all are ready, if you could make your way back to the sunroom…”
A few people began to stand and move. Others, in pairs, lingered a bit.
“Why don’t you and Neil go ahead,” Cam suggested to Evangeline. “I can stay for the stragglers.”
Evangeline winked, then took her husband’s arm to lead the procession.
Jimmy Meares looked ready to stay with Cam, but Cam ducked over for an urgent word with Annie, hoping it didn’t look too obvious.
“Is he gone yet?” Cam whispered.
“Wait for it,” Annie said. “Lingering look… and… he’s gone.”
“Thank goodness,” Cam said.
“He’s a little slimy.”
“Understatement,” Cam said.
She turned back around to see her dad standing, Lydia Fennewick clinging to his arm, laughing.
“It’s not his fault he’s a babe magnet,” Annie whispered behind her.
Jessica and Clancy rose, too, finally heading out, and Cam spotted the danger. This was what Telly had been waiting for.
Cam pounced. “Mr. Stevens! I hoped I might have a word.”
He looked irritable. “Now?”
“Just briefly. I wanted to make sure you have what you need for interviews.” Telly’s manager had agreed that he would interview all contestants for the pageant promotion.
“Let’s walk and talk at the same time, shall we?” he said, taking a shot from his flask.
Cam nodded, but made a point of moving slowly.
It wasn’t slowly enough, however, to miss seeing Judith Towers-Stevens pull on Jessica’s unoccupied arm, spin her around, and give her a slap.
“You’re a home wrecker, you tramp!”
“Judith!” Clancy and Telly swore at the same time.
“You see that? She’s got both of them wrapped around her little finger!” Judith accused, looking around the crowded corridor.
Cam watched Jessica. She didn’t argue or defend herself, but she did turn a sickly green and rush out the front door.
Clancy started to follow her but Telly grabbed his arm. His words were quiet, but his voice was made for broadcast media; the tenor trembled within hearing range.
“Why did you bring her here? Tonight, of all nights?”
Cam wondered what was so special about this particular night, but the men just stood and glared. Telly had forgotten Cam entirely.
Thankfully, Nick came through the front door with a tray, giving Cam something to do. She rushed over.
“Hey, sis—glad to see you. There are three of these and Petunia’s sort of… indisposed… You mind grabbing one?”
“Of course.”
Cam rushed out to the van and retrieved one, glad for a concrete task at the moment. She could hear retching behind a bush. Was it Petunia? Or Jessica? She worried either way, but grabbed a tray. She had barely reached the stairs when Nick rushed back past her for the last one.
> The little squares of ice cream, chocolate, and decoration were beautiful. Milk chocolate on some, white chocolate on others—each with a small flower in pink, yellow, or lavender.
When Nick set the last tray down she grabbed his arm. “Is Petunia okay?”
“Yeah, just… well, she’ll explain later.”
He splayed his hands and Cam knew he meant Petunia was throwing up. It had been her she heard.
“Out there?”
He nodded. “Behind a bush. Something set her off.”
“Poor thing!”
“I’ll get the dinner dishes now, but can you…” he indicated the three trays. “We still have another few deliveries.”
“Of course!” It was funny to hear the word “dinner” for “supper,” and with Nick’s New Jersey accent, it was really closer to “dinna.” “You come say good-bye after you’re loaded, okay? Let me know ’Tunia’s alright?”
He clicked his tongue and gave a half grin—a sort of wordless affirmative in Nick’s world. He seemed to do whatever he could to avoid language.
As Cam watched Nick leave the sunroom, Jessica came back in. She looked better—a lot better. Cam was impressed with how dignified she could look after the scene downstairs; she was the picture of elegance. She looked around the room and then made her way over to Clancy.
In slow motion, it seemed, Telly went toward her and his wife grabbed his arm, throwing red wine in his face.
“I will not have you chase after that floozy in my presence!”
Judith stormed out and Telly stood there, looking like an idiot.
Nobody rushed to help, as they all seemed to think he’d asked for it, until Giselle handed him a towel and then carefully began to dab at a wine-splattered tapestry.
Cam went to her. “Do you have any seltzer? It might work better.”
Giselle looked up. “It will? Yes! The mini-fridge.” Giselle rushed over to the bookcase, pulled a book out, and revealed it to be a false front. She took a bottle of seltzer water, and Cam did the same, then closed it again.
By the time Cam turned around after cleaning the stains, Telly, Judith, Clancy, and Jessica were all gone. Evangeline and Neil chatted amicably with sponsors and members of the media, and Cam’s dad seemed to have a harem, if not for Byron Norton also hovering. Nell, Lydia, Annette, and Barbara Mackay all appeared rapt at his story.
Jimmy Meares loitered near Annie and Cam took mercy, deciding her best friend needed rescuing. She went over and leaned in, whispering loudly.
“You meeting Jake later?” Cam asked.
“Maybe. He went to his mom’s for dinner and that often requires Annie therapy afterward. What about Rob?”
“Hopefully.”
Jimmy wasn’t as thick as he’d acted. The two women in his age range weren’t available. He said his good-byes and left.
The Azalea Assault Page 28
