I give my one-thousand apologies for taking so long to upload. The beginning of May has been the busiest time of my year, and this chapter has taken forever for me to actually complete. Dialogue-heavy scenes are always tougher for me to write - especially when I'm not "in the mood" to write them - but I'm excited to have finally completed most of the Dinner Party Table scene! Enjoy!
CHAPTER SEVEN:
6:02 PM
As if the manor hadn't wowed its guests before with spectacular architecture and finishes, it certainly did now. The dining room has a high, vaulted ceiling all made of the darkest red wood. There is an enormous set table, covered in silken linens and glittering with cut glass and silver. Behind the head of the table, obviously the seat of Miss Maleficent, roars a giant fire in the hearth, casting a warm glow to the darkened room. Shadows are thrown all over the walls, and in the low light the chandelier above the table looks like it is made from skeletal hands.
"Come, my good guests," Maleficent beckons to the table, "Sit down. I've taken the liberty of placing namecards at your seats, for your convenience."
Philby pulls his tall chair out, glancing at the notecard indicating his seat. It sits elegantly on the pearly plate. As everyone sits down, he notices an empty seat beside him. "Are we still missing a guest?"
"I'm afraid so," Maleficent sits with an impossibly straight back, "I don't know where Miss Ringwald is this evening, or why she is so late. No matter, we cannot let our food get cold, now can we?" She claps her hands together, and the two housemaids bring out loaded trays of food.
The first course is a creamy avocado soup that puddles in a brilliant, bright green in the bowl. As Finn takes his first sip, he cannot help but enjoy the frothy, fresh taste.
Philby starts the conversation, "Miss Maleficent, the architectural style of this manor is truly incredible. Quite unlike anything I've seen before, I must say."
"Why thank you, Mr. Philby. The manor belonged to my late husband, Chernabog. He never had much of an artistic eye, yet he somehow managed to build this place into – well, I like to think of it as its own little castle."
Philby nods, swallowing. "I'm afraid I had never met your husband. A true shame, since he seems like a special man to have known."
Willa sits forward, "I never met him either, actually. If you don't mind my curiosity, is it true that he owned more private businesses in the Soviet Union than any other individual?"
Maleficent interrupts, "Russia, my dear. Regardless of the nation's current political state, it will always be Russia to my ears." She gives a slight grin, then continues. "I won't be divulging too much of Chernabog's business relations, I wouldn't want to bore you with petty talk of numbers and trades."
"It's not boring at all," says Willa. "You see, miss, I work for the Daily Kingdom, and I'd be lying if I didn't say your late husband was a most interesting character. From the stories I've heard, of course."
"Only stories," Maleficent closes the topic, "Stories can be harmful in their untruthfulness."
Jess lays her hands in her lap, "So," she speaks, addressing the young guests, "Have any of you ever met my uncle?"
One by one, each head gives a slightly-guilty shake.
"Do you ever remember any indirect contact with him? Business or associates?"
Again, no one can say they have.
"How interesting," Jess sits back. "My Aunt specifically told me that she invited each of you because – what was it? – your connections to my Uncle Chernabog. Connections which, I'm assuming, none of you know anything about."
"Jezebel," Maleficent cuts her off, her tone icy. She remembers her other guests at the table, and she warms her voice. "Now is neither the place nor the time to discuss the guest list."
"I just thought it was a fascinating observation."
"Inappropriate, Jezebel." Maleficent takes a long sip from her wine glass, the ruby liquid sloshing around in the crystal like blood. She is quick to change the subject. "Miss Turner, I must congratulate you on your last fantastic film. I don't get outside to the movie theaters often, but I did enjoy you in The Great Gatsby."
Charlene blushes delicately, "Thank you. Daisy Buchanan was a wonderful character to play for a thousand reasons. She may even be my favorite role."
"What makes her so fun to play?"
"Well, she is the portrait of a perfect society girl, a least in appearance." Charlene takes a quick sip of her own wine, "But she has her own secrets. Everyone does."
"Secrets make things interesting," Maleficent says nonchalantly.
Jess speaks up, "They can be dangerous. Destructive, even."
Maleficent gives her niece another pointed glare, and Maybeck decides to step in, "So, Miss Maleficent, I couldn't help but notice the painting by Rapunzel hanging in the living room. Was your husband an art collector?"
Maleficent stirs her soup slowly, "My husband knew fine things when he saw them, art included. He was a man who loved his luxuries." She hangs in a strange, trancelike stare, then snaps and continues, "That painting was a gift from a colleague of his, and it was one of his favorites. Chernabog found a certain elegance in the castle at Neuschwanstein. Remind me, Mister Maybeck, you're a bit of an artist yourself, aren't you?"
He straightens in his chair, "Yes ma'am. I am, an animator, actually. My sketches have been featured in all of the local magazines back in Missouri for a few years,"
"Is that so?"
"Yes, but it was my Aunt Jelly who suggested I should travel out west to try and bring them to Hollywood. She thought the motion picture business would be the next big place for cartoons, and I hope to prove her right."
A new round of food emerges, this time with trays laden with leafy green salads.
"In fact, I'm meeting with an executive from Lake Buena Vista films next week, to discuss my cartoons. A Mister Frollo, if I believe."
Charlene seems to gag slightly on the cherry tomato she had just popped in her mouth. Trying to recover, she mutters, "Pleasant fellow."
Philby speaks, "What a fine coincidence! I'm meeting with Mr. Frollo next week as well, to introduce my latest line of cameras. We're going to talk on Tuesday."
Nodding, Maybeck says, "So am I. Funny how the world works."
"I should give you a ride down to the studios, then," Philby smiles, a little smug. "I have a fancy new, red Ford that I just love showing off, if you don't mind me saying so. A real beauty, plenty of room for passengers. I could give you a lift."
Charlene's lips tighten into a smile. "Men and their cars," she sighs, matter-of-factly. She turns to Finn, trying to include him. "Don't you love cars too, Mister Whitman?"
"No, I can't say I do." Finn answers quickly, not wanting to divulge into the messy details.
Hurried footsteps travel down the hallway, and soon the hunched-over form of an old, white-haired man appears in the low light. It is Mr. Wayne, the absent groundskeeper. "Please excuse my delayed arrival, Miss Maleficent."
She grits her teeth, her composure cracking. "Where - have - you - been?"
"I bring a guest," Wayne offers, not bothering to let Maleficent finish. He extends his hand, and a girl reaches for his grasp. "Allow me to introduce Miss Amanda Lockhart, here in the place of Miss Sally Ringwald."
Amanda steps into the light, and she physically takes Finn's breath away. She is tall and trim, her skin bearing a rich, natural tan. She wears a bias-cut gown made of vivid teal charmeuse, with a deep v-cut neckline, thin straps, and a jeweled brooch just below the bust. Dark navy gloves run past her elbows, and her dark hair falls in waterfall waves over her shoulders.
Maleficent stands up abruptly. "I'm afraid the invitation was specifically for Miss Ringwald. Her presence here is surely missed, yet not replaceable by any girl off of the street!"
"Miss Lockhart is a longtime friend of the Ringwald's, isn't that right?" Wayne looks at Amanda, who nods mutely.
"I'm sorry," Maleficent shakes her head, "I cannot allow this. This is a private dinner, and—"
"You can stay."
All heads turn to Jess, who now too stands. "We cannot send her out in the rain like this! That would be just inhumane. Besides, there is plenty of room and food here for Miss Lockhart to stay."
Amanda looks elegantly embarrassed in this situation, "It is raining brutally outside." No one argued with that; they could all hear raindrops pounding on the ceiling through the next uncomfortably-long pause.
"Fine," Maleficent capitulates through clenched teeth. She sinks back into her chair as Amanda finds her place beside Philby. She introduces herself politely to the man sitting next to her. All the while, Finn cannot take his eyes off of her. He knows her from somewhere.
"Tell me, Miss Lockhart," Maleficent calls out, "How exactly do you know the Ringwald's?"
Amanda took a quick breath before speaking, as if gathering herself, "My mother has known Mrs. Ringwald for years, dating back to when they were children. They grew up together, and have managed to stay in touch."
"Mrs. Ringwald grew up in Idaho, if my memory is correct," says Maleficent. "Is that where your mother is from too?"
Amanda nods, "Yes, she lived there as a child."
"Do tell me dear, where in Idaho did your mother meet Mrs. Ringwald? Did they live near each other?" Maleficent is clearly testing Amanda.
Wayne clears his throat from the doorway, "If you don't mind, Miss, I'm going to change out of these muddy old groundskeeper clothes, they're quite soaked from the rain."
In a commanding tone, Maleficent barks, "And then you will return back here and serve my guests. Your actions are not without consequence, Mr. Kresky, and we will discuss in length later on."
He shuffles out of the room, leaving all of the guests taken aback. Amanda speaks up, "Your groundskeeper really is a gentle man. He came out, in the pouring rain like this, to bring me all the way to your home."
"And why he brought you I'll never quite understand," Maleficent doesn't bother hiding her dislike for Amanda.
"Sally sends her regards, and apologizes for being unable to attend this evening. She fell ill just before this evening with a terrifying stomach ailment, and she told me to come in her place."
"How? By telephone?" Maleficent continues the interrogation, while the rest of the table sits silently. "Then tell my why she didn't phone here and explain her absence for this evening?"
"I was already at her home," Amanda speaks swiftly, yet calmly. "She told me in person, and then I left quickly so as not to catch her bug myself. I tried to phone your home, and Mr. Kresky answered. That's why he was the one to pick me up. I didn't know the directions to your home, and my family's driver was out at an event with my parents."
"I don't buy a word of it," Maleficent blurts out, "not one word. Tell me, girl, where does Sally Ringwald live?"
Amanda pauses, then recites, "33 Donald Boulevard."
"That is an address, too rehearsed. Tell me, where does she live?"
Amanda tries to make up for it, "On the southern side of town, in the direction of Inglewood. It's a large, stucco-faced house with six palm trees lining either side of the driveway."
Maleficent opens her mouth to speak, then shuts it tightly. Face blank, she turns and beckons to the maid standing in the shadows. It is Grimhilde, the dark-haired one.
"Bring me the telephone, I want to call Sally Ringwald and ask her how she is feeling."
As the maid scampers off, Jess turns down the table and smiles at Amanda. "That dress really is spectacular on you. It looks custom-made, just for you!"
Amanda blushes, "Thank you, Miss Jessica. You could say it was custom-made."
"Then you really have the eye for clothing." Jess is nothing but friendly.
Finn watches Amanda, seeing the way her eyes dart down at her lap shyly as Jess compliments her on her fashion sense. There, now he's certain he has seen her before, and he knows exactly where from. But… How does it line up with her story? Can he really be correct?
Light chatter from the young guests at the table fills the tense silence for the next few minutes. Another course is brought out, full of rich steak and tender fresh fish. Everyone is enjoying the food when Grimhilde returns holding the rotary phone, the cord stretched far into the dark hallway.
Maleficent clutches the earpiece in her icy hands, punching numbers around the spinning dial. She waits, speaker pressed up to her ear, but hears nothing by static. "Why can't I get my call through?" She growls.
"It must be the storm," Philby suggests. "The Manor is so isolated, something must be interfering with the telephone service here."
Maleficent tries redialing again three times before slamming the earpiece back onto the phone's base. All around her, the guests have tried to carry on polite conversation, but they can all feel the worried atmosphere around them.
Something tells them they won't be leaving the manor anytime soon.
Again, so sorry it took so long to upload.
I broke the Cardinal Rule in writing, where I began a story without really knowing where it was going plotwise. (For anyone who has watched the TV show "Lost", then we all know how dangerous that can be!) but now I think I have a clearer idea of what will happen. Mwahahaha...
Dialogue drives me crazy, especially these big group scenes. But I love working the characters together, and now we have all of our Keepers introduced and present at the Manor.
Expect the unexpected :)
