by Rob Summers
Chapter 29 The Banquet of the Blessed
The drive to the Powers’ mansion took them through some of the best neighborhoods and up to a gated community called Lethe Estates. Here curving roads passed between five and six acre wooded lots on which every house was huge and every yard landscaped. They turned down a long driveway to a capacious private parking lot where Fate found the last empty space. When they got out of the car, they looked up at the three story mansion lit by spotlights. People moved about behind the windows. Near the point of the highest gable, in gold and black, gleamed the City Seal.
Reason gripped her cousin by the sleeve. “Just in and right back out again, right?”
“Yes, Reas’, stop worrying.” Dignity had already endured a thorough lecture in the car. “In and out. Whatever.”
“There’s no whatever about it”— his older cousin began, but she was interrupted by the approach of two men who, as they came nearer, entered the light of an area lamp.
“Good evening, sir. Good evening, Mrs. Reason.”
It was patrolman Shaky Pain, and he was guiding a smaller man by means of a firm grip on the upper arm. The big, gray haired policeman paused politely, giving them a chance to answer.
“You having a bad day, Bits?” Dignity said.
The poet said nothing but hugged himself in the sub-zero cold.
“No quotations appropriate for the occasion?” Reason asked. She took off her coat and offered it to him, and he accepted it, sliding into it at once. “You can drop it off at Grace House sometime, but Bits, I don’t want to see you anymore. If you ever learn anything from this, then you can call my husband for counseling.”
Bits looked at her one eyed and his lip curled. “Dearest, they’ll take good care of you inside.”
“Yes, I know what you mean by that. We’re forewarned. And don’t call me ‘dearest.’”
An awkward pause followed until Dignity took off his coat and, putting it around Reason’s shoulders, led her toward the house. With a cheery “Good evening!” Pain jerked Bits along in the other direction.
Swella D’Ego raised a green tinted wineglass, sipped from it, and put it down on the dark green tablecloth at the head table.
“That was all just a misunderstanding and long forgotten,” she said. “The snowplow driver must have somehow led me to the wrong door.” She looked puzzled. “Though the address was right.”
“I can explain, Mrs. D’Ego,” said Reason from across the table. “An employee of ours had taken one of the the number twos from our house at 1422 and put it in place of the zero at our neighbor’s at 1420.”
This was news to Dignity, who turned to Reason with raised eyebrows. So that explained the metal ‘O’ Reason had worn briefly during the trial. As usual, Obscurity had been as depressingly thorough as a flood.
“What in the world for?” asked Swella. “That was a cruel joke.”
“I’m sorry you had to stand out in the blizzard,” Reason said.
“And this employee has been dismissed?”
Reason looked up at Dignity for support. He cleared his throat. “No, not dismissed. She meant well.”
“Meant well? I—well, I did say all forgotten, didn’t I? We must resume as if it never happened. Editor Blindazabat is very excited about your book.” She shot Blindazabat a glance as he sat beside her, seemingly asleep behind his thick glasses. “You did bring a copy of the manuscript, didn’t you?”
Dignity laughed. “Never gave it a thought. No, I’m sorry.”
“That’s—unfortunate.”
Swella was clearly struggling, so Mrs. Power spoke from her other side. “Yes, how unfortunate, but I think not any real impediment. You’re eager to publish it, aren’t you, Blindazabat?”
He still sat motionless.
“He’s a bit hard of hearing,” Swella stage whispered. She took his hand. “Ready to publish?” she bawled. He appeared to be frozen. She put his hand down. “He squeezed my fingers. That means yes.”
Dignity laughed again and, taking a swallow of his wine, looked down the table to his right where sat, beyond Reason, Mr. and Mrs. Disdain. Across from the Disdains were the Mammons, and Dignity could not help but think that old Mr. Mammon should not have come. He looked ill and was almost certainly drunk, for he was talking to himself and dribbling wine on his shirt. Both couples, while careful to use his new name, had already greeted Dignity as an old friend.
Mr. Power was conspicuously absent, and if Dignity had been a little brighter, he would have seen in this a conscious strategy.
To his left was some other family, but he had avoided looking in that direction because some fiend of a butler had arranged that the closest chair on that side should be filled by Fame Vainglory. His nose was full of her too familiar perfume, and his elbow was almost touching hers. She was surely as stunning as usual, but as long as he looked away....
“I’ve been meaning to call you a hundred times,” said the familiar voice, “but I’ve been so busy. Tell me what’s been happening in your life.”
Dignity examined his fork for spots. “Well, lately I”ve been stalked by a white haired maniac.”
Fame accepted this as easily as if he had told her his latest golf score. “That’s so unfortunate. I hope that will be over soon.”
“No, I don’t think so. But you don’t know who I mean, do you?”
“I suppose not, but I’m sympathetic.” She chirped a laugh. “One of those Heavenites, I suppose?”
“How did you guess?” Dignity found a sudden interest in the refolding of his napkin. “She’s destructive and insane but other than that a pretty good sort.”
He could not say why he had chosen to talk about Obscurity, but it occurred to him that thinking about the security woman’s face might help him to offset the spell Fame tended to cast over him.
“She?” Fame’s hand came into view as she touched the edge of his napkin. “Another interest of yours perhaps? You were always one for the ladies.”
Dignity found his brain fogging as he heard his cousin answer for him. “Yes, an interest,” said Reason. “She’s a beautiful woman and she loves Dignity. In fact, we’ll have to be getting back to the Grace House party soon so he can spend some time with Obscurity.”
To Dignity’s left heads snapped up, and he found staring at him a middle aged couple seated beyond Mrs. Power. Everyone at the table became quiet, so that for a few moments the small orchestra in the next room was heard clearly.
With no trace of a smile, the woman addressed Dignity. “You know my daughter, then?”
He saw that these were the parents in the picture taped to Obscurity’s mirror, and he remembered that their names were Self Righteousness and Fear. Having turned so far, he could no longer avoid seeing Fame and beyond her another redhead, the younger sister of the picture, Lost Innocence.
When he nodded to Fear, she leaned forward, clasping together diamond ringed hands and maintaining a serene face. “How is she? Is she well?”
“Yes, she’s well, ma’am.”
Now came the forced smile as she looked down the table to the other couples. “The lost sheep of the family, I’m afraid. Very stubborn and independent.”
“A spoiled little know-it-all,” said her husband, red faced. “If she’s in love with you, Dignity, you’d better take the first exit. Either that or paddle her behind. She’s got no sense and no natural affection. After she refused to be City with us, she got a handout from the Heavenite’s Embassy and started some fool of a business, playing at being grown up. She’s an ungrateful little fool who ran away from her family and—”
“That’s enough,” said Dignity.
Self Righteousness was startled silent. Reason looked at Dignity in surprise, and he, scanning the other faces at the table, saw that he was going to have to say something more. Not unusually, he said the first thing that popped into his head.
“She’s awfully good looking, your daughter.�
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The angry expressions grew more angry, and the puzzled expressions more puzzled. He would have to say more.
“And she says she protects people like me from people like you.” He gestured to include all those present. “How about that?”
Portly old Mr. Mammon erupted from down the table. “You need no protection from me, son. No one ever did.”
“Or from me,” said Fame at his elbow.
“I’m sure you don’t mean what you say,” said Mrs. Power with a smile. “Won’t you have some of the caviar? It’s very good. Mr. Power recommends it.”
“Where is Mr. Power?” Dignity asked.
“He’s probably visiting the other tables, but he’ll want to see you before you leave, I’m sure. I do wish you and your cousin had been able to come earlier for the main courses. You missed so many good things. Our cook prepared her usual roast saint, and Bishop Ooze brought a delicious widow’s house pie.”
Mr. Self Righteousness, who had had a moment to recover himself, said, “You tell Obscurity to come see me, Dignity. She’s been an embarrassment to our family long enough. She needs to hear a few things. If she—”
“Sir, she won’t be coming to see you,” Dignity said. “She’s through with your family.”
At this, Fear buried her face in her hands and Lost Innocence began to cry.
“And why?” demanded Self Righteousness. “Will somebody just once tell me why a daughter would cut herself off like that? There’s no point to it. Why would she leave her home?”
Impishly, Dignity lifted a candlestick from the center of the table and pointing the burning end at Self Righteousness, asked, “Is it true your house doesn’t need gas heat anymore?”
Lost Innocence made a strangled sound, jumped up from the table, and ran away.
