July, 25th

Edith:

It should be noted that the dinner parties given by Mrs. Ian Shaw, this is, me, have been featured and talked about by very remarkable people in very remarkable outlets. It should be noted and appreciated that I take pains to oversee to the last detail, from the floral arrangements to the food and seating placements, the music and even the scent present during the evening. It must be duly remembered that my dinner parties under the stars are not rained upon, not because I have powers over the weather but because I always have plans to back on in case the unruly London climate decides not to cooperate.

My party planning is perfect and it frustrates me beyond words when my guests do not appreciate my efforts. Twice today, not just once but twice, I had to introduce last minute changes to my perfect party honoring my cousin Frederick and his family. First, Henry stood me up. Henry Rowan, of all people! I'm so disappointed in him. And second Frederick asked me to add one more guest, as if it were so simple! But Frederick knows how to be adorable and it's hard to be mad at him for long.

He said he had met this friend absolutely by chance this morning, he crossed him on the street or something, and since my cousin is returning to Spain tomorrow and hadn't seen his friend for long he thought he might invite him.

I am not happy, oh no, I am not. But I trust this friend of Frederick behaves himself and doesn't break any glass or loses a piece of cutlery.

John:

This morning I was heading for a meeting at Melanie Sanders' office when I heard a voice calling me, which belonged to none but Frederick Hale. He seemed absolutely elated to see me and went as far as extending me an invitation to a dinner party at his cousin's this evening.

I am ashamed to admit that my interest in Frederick is mostly as Margaret's brother, and that being bankrupt for all practical purposes is not the best shape I've been in, but the hope, the slim chance of seeing her again trumps all my misgivings. Yes, I know she might not be there tonight, or that she might be with someone else and I might be crushed. But now I hope and I'll worry later.

At the tiny mirror of my brother in law's apartment in London I give myself a hard look and try to assess what I see. It's been a hard year since I last saw her; my work of the past two decades went all down the drain after a string of adversities too massive to deal with together.

I am not my business, but my business was all I had. It also leaked through my fingers, like water, like the things I've wanted most.

Margaret:

John is coming tonight, you say? How is that possible, is that really true? Sometime during the past months, in my mind he stopped being Mr. Thornton and started being John... but I have never called him so.

My brother has just announced that we'll have a last minute guest and I try to keep a flush from overwhelming me. I discreetly check my dress: it's a nice cocktail dress with an ample knee length skirt, very 1950's, very classic. It's white and has a print of large blue flowers, in a china effect very pretty. I'm suddenly glad I'm wearing wedges; normally I'd think myself too tall for them but tonight I thought they'd compliment the style. I check my posture, my hair, my nails, and I'm alert, extremely alert, to the point that I hardly know what I'm doing, just to know the moment he steps in.

And I do. My back is facing the door, I'm playing with (or mostly, chasing) Olivia around and I just know that he came into the room. My ears pick the husky tones of his voice, his soft and low voice, amidst the noise of the room but I don't want to turn around yet. I want to give myself just another moment, and then, I take a breath, I stand up and I turn from my waist first and my head last.

He's right by my side. I strive for composure even if I risk being a little icy, but I, very slightly, near my cheek to his and smile. He nears his and we air kiss.

He has changed, he has changed a lot. He looks older, careworn, but still so handsome. Some portions of his hair are salt-and-pepper, and to my surprise he's wearing a dense, but well groomed, beard.

We don't talk. Just "how do you do" and inconsequential, awkward conversation. I blush right now and it will stay so for the rest of the evening and probably part of tomorrow too.

Edith:

Well, this Mr. Thornton is not a bad addition, I admit. He's not bad looking, I suppose, and good at conversation. Fred and Dolores are enthralled with him and the evening is rolling out well.

I am in the party level kitchen, where we keep the smallest supplies and the drinks (the cooks are in the lower kitchen, better equipped for those purposes), looking for a little fork for Olivia when Ian comes up to me and holds me from behind.

-"You look very pretty tonight, wife", he says and the innuendo is quite difficult to miss.

-"Thank you, husband" I say turning, "but a pretty lady cannot have too many pretty things", I reply nuzzling his neck. "Have you seen the ring Henry gave Margaret? She's such a lucky girl."

-"You're much luckier than she is. Want me to show you how much exactly?" he says teasingly.

Someone clears his throat and we turn to find Mr. Thornton with an ice bucket in his hand.

-"I, umm, there's no more ice" he says covering his discomfiture after getting a too ample view on our domestic felicity.

-"Oh, thank you," I pretend nothing happened. Ian opens the fridge and takes the ice out, I observe our new guest. Inspiration strikes.

-"Mr. Thornton, are you married?" I ask politely.

-"Beg you pardon?" he seems taken by surprise as if it were an nosy question.

-"If you're married" I repeat raising my hand with my wedding ring.

-"Oh no, not married", he replies then.

-"Edith..." says Ian, a just a hint of warning in his voice. I ignore him.

-"If you agree, of course, I would like to introduce you to my friend Kate, a very pretty and intelligent lawyer", I say proud of my matchmaking abilities.

John:

The husband, Mr. Lennox, shifts strategies.

-"Eddie, dear, why don't you take more champagne for pregnant women? It seems to me there are thirsty teetotalers in the room".

I appreciate this man's intervention but I want to be polite to my host.

-"Ah...", What about your cousin, Ms. Lennox? "I live in Milton all year round and I'm afraid I'm not keen on long distance relationships". I hope this was said tactfully enough.

Ms. Lennox nods and takes a bottle that looks like champagne but apparently isn't.

-"Sorry about that", says Lennox once she's out of earshot. "My wife means well, I hope you know."

I pull the corners of my mouth up.

Frederick:

-"John, you're here", I say after finding our friend in the kitchen with Ian. "Come on, join us at the terrace".

We walk toward the open skies section of my cousin's party with a glass of scotch each.

-"So, tell me, how things have been in Milton?" I ask him.

-"Well, in Milton, generally speaking", he replies, "not bad. Personally, yes, quite badly. My business broke" he says simply, as if talking about the weather.

Margaret, who was playing with Olivia nearby, turns her face to us in disbelief.

-"Really?" she says very quietly.

He looks to her smiling patiently.

-"Yes, really".

-"But..." my sister says in a thin voice, "What happened?"

John shrugs a little.

-"A lot of things, all at the same time. Debts with Revenue, low demand for repairs, too much going out and too little coming in", he concludes.

Margaret still seems in shock.

-"Couldn't you have sold the company instead?"

-"I suppose I could have", he says looking at her and then at me. "But the offers weren't good. I mean, I could have saved myself but my employees would have been forced to resign. From the point of view of general welfare this was the best option. This way they're eligible for social security payments - unemployment or retirement".

-"And what about you?", asks Margaret, her eyes big.

-"No, I'm not eligible for social security", he says laughing. "I'm looking for a job, actually. If my references help" he adds with self deprecatory tone.

By this time John is the center of the party. Everyone is in awe of this man hardly older than myself, who's built everything with his own hands and lost it all yet he seems so respectable and dignified. My sister looks down and picks up little Ian, who's clamoring for her attention.

-"These things happen all the time, Miss Hale" John says to her and I'm surprised by the formality they address each other with, "it's not the end of the world. Besides I received a note with employees signatures stating they'd be glad to join me again... should I ever get out of the swamp I'm in, that's it. Your friend Higgins' is one of the first names on it."

Margaret nods and walks to another area with little Ian still in arms. She seems a bit upset so I later join her.

-"Everything alright?", I ask her.

-"Fred, everyone I met in Milton was related to that business. This must be a tragedy", she shakes her head, "and I had no idea".

The evening is pleasant and pretty much like all the dinner parties my cousin gives. When we're ready to leave Edith thanks me for this last minute guest, and I thank her back for receiving him.

We're leaving back for Spain tomorrow afternoon and we must rest.