As long as she didn’t have to bend or sit, she was okay.
The woman was instantly at her side, pulling her pants from her grip and shoving an apron at her, which she gestured for Rachel to put on. It was white and said across tilt, bodice, Queen Mary’s Catering, and was embroidered with tiny little ships around the lettering.
The woman waited impatiently for Rachel to tie the apron, then shoved a beverage tray into her hand. “I’m Mary. If you have any questions about anything, you find me. Do not bother the hostess. You’re serving drinks. Now go!” she said, and fairly pushed Rachel through a swinging door, which she stumbled through, seeing as how she could hardly move her legs in that skirt. Once she was certain she wouldn’t topple over, she paused and had a look around.
She was not prepared for the room that greeted her.
On the other side of that swinging door was a large room that had been, perhaps, a ballroom at one point. A thick oriental carpet covered the floor. The crown molding along the ceiling was papier-maché in the old style, with flying baby cherubs forming a ring around the room and around the huge candelabra that hung from the middle. There was a small jazz quartet at the far end of the room, seated at the edge of a portable dance floor that couldn’t have been larger than about eight feet. There was a full bar manned by two bartenders directly across from the enormous hearth, and a smattering of tables built for two.
The hosts had gone to great expense to decorate with a Thanksgiving theme—cornucopias overflowing with fruits and grains were in the corners, and two cornucopias on the bar were pouring what looked like champagne. In addition, funky but elaborate paper and feathered turkeys graced the tabletops, as well as a huge one in front of the fireplace.
Moreover, many of the guests were wearing pilgrim hats.
Her perusal of the room was interrupted by the arrival of Mary again, who came barging through the swinging door with something that smelled divine. “What are you waiting for?” she hissed at Rachel’s back. “Get out there!”
Rachel stumbled into the midst of the partygoers and asked the first couple she came to, “Drink?”
“Darling, I thought you’d never arrive!” the woman laughed. “I’ll have a Manhattan, but please tell the bartender that I want just a dash of vermouth, and in fact, I’d really prefer it if he’d dash just a little more bitters than vermouth,” she said, holding up her fingers to indicate how much more.
“Okay,” Rachel said, even as she was trying to commit to memory what the woman had just said.
“I’ll have an Italian Nut. Lots of ice,” the man added.
“An Italian Nut?” Rachel echoed.
“Yes. An Italian Nut,” he said with a completely straight face.
“I’ll be right back,” Rachel said with a smile, and headed for the bar, knowing, even at this early stage, that one hundred dollars was not going to be nearly enough for this evening, because she recognized all the signs of a blow-out, as she had been forced to attend parties like this when she was a teenager.
When she reached the bar, she smiled and said to one of the bartenders, “I need a Manhattan, with a dash of vermouth. And she asked if you would dash more bitters than vermouth.”
“Gotcha,” he said, and started making the drink.
“And an Italian Nut,” she said carefully.
“Oh man!” He laughed. “These people got more money than brains, huh? You’ll have heard it all by the time this is over, sweetheart. I’m Mike, by the way.”
“Rachel.”
“Looking good, Rachel!” he said with another wink, and handed her the two drinks.
She blinked up at him to see if he was making fun of her. But he just smiled. Rachel smiled, too. And kept smiling as she reached the couple with their drinks.
Flynn was napping peacefully when Joe shoved him awake by bouncing his head against the car window. Flynn’s eyes flew open with a curse. “Bollocks! What did you do that for?” he asked as he rubbed his head where it had collided with the window.
“He’s here,” Joe said.
“Of course he is. Couldn’t arrive a little late and let a bloke have a bit of a kip, could he, now?”
Joe laughed. “Dude. You act like you’ve never had to work a couple of full days before. Don’t you have to pull extra shifts from time to time over there?”