This Chapter is submitted by madigirl

"This is NOT a floral center piece!" Madison looked up from the morning reports Riccio had copied from the computer in the office and brought to the kitchen for her approval. "That is a damned casket spray." Madison pretended to search for a file as she surreptitiously watched the party planner, Marcelo, pull out his cell, flip it open, and punch a series of numbers, never once losing eye contact with man who steadfastly refused to take back the garish flowers sitting on the dining room table. "Rebecca? Marcelo... Fine... Look, Rebecca, the flowers you sent me are all wrong. This is a quiet neighborhood soiree, see? It's not the latest Trump wedding, ok?... Right, knew I could count on you, babe. See ya." The smile Marcelo wore as he handed the phone to the now frowning delivery man had just the barest trace of triumph. "She wants to talk to you."

Leaving the phone with the loudly protesting delivery man, Marcelo walked into the kitchen and poured himself a mug of the coffee Riccio managed to never let run dry. Turning, he leaned against the counter, took a slow sip, and looked at Madison thoughtfully. "You know, when the caterers get here, they're going to need this kitchen and that table. Maybe you could pretend to work in the dining room for a while." He set the cup on the counter and stood up straight. "I'm sure you'll be able to watch me from there."

Madison flipped through a stack of papers. Without looking up, or acknowledging Marcelo's comment, she spoke to her Executive Assistant, who was typing into a lap top and speaking into a head phone. "Riccio, I don't seem to see the profit/loss analysis from MegaSoft here. Is it still in the office?"

Riccio fingers flew across the keyboard of her laptop. "It seems we haven't received that report yet this morning, Ms. Harris."

Madison frowned. "Damn. I need that post this morning. Please make some calls and find out which butt needs kicking, and then kick it." She looked around at the milling workers and then, significantly, at Marcelo. "Down in the office, so we don't bother the caterers."

"Right" Riccio folded her laptop, gathered her ever present papers, and quickly left the room.

Marcelo watched the middle aged, sensibly dressed, model of efficiency walk by and stood silently until everyone else was out of earshot. Then he turned to face the woman who was now standing just out of arm's length. He forced a smile that, nevertheless, seemed to come easily. "Alone at last."

The smile was not returned. "Nothing is going to ruin this party."

Marcelo held his hands up, palms out. "Hey, I'm here to do a job, nothing more. My job is to give you the perfect party; the best damned party this neighborhood has ever seen. In fact, if I do my job correctly, you shall go down in Seacouver history, right next to the Tannebaum Tupperware party of 1962." He lost the smile, and his voice became serious. "I'd rather skip any other activities, if you don't mind."

Madison stood quietly and regarded the man before her. She had been watching him since he arrived this morning and she had first felt the tell tale buzz of another immortal. Physically, he was tall, maybe 6'2", and he seemed to be well built, though it was hard to tell with his choice of jeans and oxford shirt, worn untucked. He moved with an ease of body that spoke of good physical and mental training. Madison had been impressed with the authority and precision with which he worked and wondered if, in another lifetime, he had been in an army. Even now, as she held his gaze, he didn't flinch. Instinctually, she felt she could trust his word. "Agreed."

The easy smile was no longer forced. "Good. Now that's settled, let's discuss where we should set up the buffet. Actually, I was thinking maybe we should have two: one in here and one out on the ..."

"Hello?" Both immortals looked to the foyer, to find a petite, well turned out, blonde stepping happily into the house. "The door was open. I hope you don't mind."

Madison wasn't really sure what the appropriate response was here. This wasn't a good time for a visit, yet this was the one neighbor with which she had anything even coming near to a relationship. "Well," she began, uncertainly. "I do have some work I have to..."

"I just thought you might need some help with the party." She walked into the dining room, looked at the display of flowers that still sat in the middle of the table, and touched one of the petals, just to confirm that they were real. "Not that you wouldn't do just a wonderful job, but, I do have lots and lots of experience with this kind of thing."

"Well, ummm yes, I'm sure you do." Madison had the uncomfortable feeling that she was about to make the world's biggest faux pas. "But, see, I've hired Mr. Trinidad here."

Ruth looked at the dark haired man that joined them by the table, eyes and smile growing large. "Not Marcelo Trinidad?"

Marcelo took the hand Ruth offered in a firm but gentle grip. "I'm sorry, Ms..." He stopped and flashed a slightly embarrassed smile. "Have we met?"

"Oh, no." Ruth enthused. "But I have heard of you. I just loved the work you did at the library fund raising dinner and the party to welcome the new polar bears to the zoo. I attended both of those and, well, everything was just beautiful."

"Thank you, Ms... I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name."

"Please, call me Ruth. Anyway, you do beautiful work, just beautiful." She looked back at the flowers. "Although I would think that a neighborhood party, might be something a little different than you're used to." Ruth peered hopefully into the kitchen. "I suppose you might need a little help."

Marcelo looked at Madison, who was obviously wishing that she had just stuck with the paper work. Suppressing a smile, he turned back to the eager woman. "You know, Ruth. There is something, but I hesitate to ask. You must be very busy."

"Oh, no." Ruth exclaimed. "I mean I'm never too busy to help a new neighbor."

"Well, I did just speak to my caterer, and it seems that he forgot the finger sandwiches."

Ruth's barely audible gasp showed that she knew just how serious this could be. "I would be happy to bring them." She gave Madison a reassuring look. "Don't worry. We won't let a little thing like that ruin your party. I'll just call Bambi," Looking back to Marcelo, she explained. "That's my daughter. And we'll get right on it."

"Thank you, Ruth." Madison said, sincerely. "I really appreciate it."

"Oh, no trouble at all." Ruth looked at her watch. "Oh, I really must be going if I'm going to make enough finger sandwiches for this neighborhood. "I'll see you both tonight." There was about five minutes of goodbyes after that, but at last Ruth left, in search of just the right groceries."

As she closed the door behind Ruth, Madison turned to Marcelo. "Well, I guess I should get back to work." She paused for a moment, and then added. "I'll just be down in the office if you need me."

Marcelo turned to see the delivery man pick up the floral display and stomp out of the sliding doors that led to the driveway where his van was parked. "Don't worry, Ms. Harris. Everything is under control."