 IV. Netos 7:00 PM Amanda started barking and waddled to the woman with his tongue happily hanging out of his mouth. “Aunt Ira, I’ve been trying to find you ever since I got here!” She ignored her nephew. “All right everyone, get off your butts and come and eat before the food gets cold.” The guests slowly moved toward the dining room. The dark green tablecloth was replaced with one that was bright red with pink hearts. White candles were placed at intervals to coincide with the seating. There were tiny manila placards next to the wine glasses indicating where everyone was to be seated. Ira took the seat at the head of the table. “I’ll trade you,” Larrington said to Vicker who had been assigned to sit on Ira’s left. “I need to talk to my aunt about some very important things.” “No,” Ira said, her blue eyes sharpening on her nephew like daggers. “Go back to your seat. Vicker stays here. I haven’t seen him in some years. You come by practically every day.” Larrington sulked and wandered off to the other end of the table where he sat with the astrologer and her cousin. “You must excuse Larrington,” said Ira to Vicker. “His brain is the size of a pea. It’s only big enough to hold one thought.” “Sort of like a tenacious dog, eh?” Amanda woofed, insulted by Vicker’s comment. He made himself comfortable underneath Ira’s chair. “Hadrian, darling, you have met Amanda?” “Yes, Ira. Quite an ugly pug, I’d have to say. But he sort of grows on you, doesn’t he?” “I loved him the first time I laid my eyes on him,” Ira declared. Reine’s seat was to Ira’s right. “The Baroness, Tabora, said that you were busy writing today.” “Something like that. I was deep in research for my next novel. You know how it is. Ah, well, Marcus, I see you and the others have gotten here safe and sound.” Marcus had found himself wedged between Reine and Esther and was sitting across from Tabora who was occupying Vicker’s attention with some of her childhood adventures. “Actually, Reine was driving. She got the short straw.” He discretely scooted his chair an inch away from Vicker’s wife. The rest of the dinner went rather smoothly despite the grumbling of Larrington at the end of the table and the occasional bickering between Xanthia and Diana that always wound down to angry stares across the table. Hadrian was sitting next to Tabora and Xanthia, but also across from Esther. He was making strange faces all throughout dinner. “Is something wrong with the dessert?” Ira inquired as Hadrian made a surprised face as he tasted a spoonful of the chocolate mousse that Palwick and Mary had served out a few minutes before. “No, nothing is wrong,” Hadrian hastily said. But it was clear that he meant something else entirely and it wasn’t about the mousse. “I think he’s just suffering from nicotine withdrawal,” Marcus said, sending him a sympathetic glance. At the end of dinner, Ira tapped a spoon to a wineglass to inform everyone that she was regretfully leaving everyone for the night. The research on her newest novel beckoned. Most of the guests moved back to the living room for some more conversation, but the three editors fled upstairs. “I hope we don’t have assigned seats tomorrow,” said Hadrian. “Was there something wrong with the chair you were sitting in?” Reine asked. “No. Something was playing with me feet, and I don’t think it was Amanda.” She frowned. “What was playing with your feet? Amanda remained underneath Ira’s chair the entire time, sleeping.” “That woman.” Hadrian shuddered. “For some reason, she gives me the creeps despite her pretty face. I think she was attempting to play footsie with me during dinner.” “Consider yourself lucky,” said Marcus. “I was sitting next to her the whole time and it was sort of difficult trying to keep her hand from wandering to places where it shouldn’t be.” “What do you mean? I thought you two would be all over the opportunity for an affair with a beautiful woman.” “Have you ever seen me with a married woman?” Hadrian countered. Marcus emphatically agreed. “She’s not my type.” © 2002, S. Y. Affolee |