“It is. I haven’t been inside since Rebecca redecorated it, but from what she’s told me, the chime will probably be the most tasteful thing in the house, so prepare yourself.”
Rebecca opened the door swathed in mauve silk disguised as a dressing gown. “Good morning, girls!” She greeted us all with air kisses, then closed the door behind us. “I’m sorry we couldn’t have our doggy playdate, but our groomer had a last-minute cancellation and you know how hard it is to get an appointment with a good groomer. We were desperate because I wanted Pucci to look her best for the shower and her fur is always at its fluffiest perfection after a couple of weeks. Not to mention the color rinse. It’s always too fuchsia at first, and it takes a while before it fades to the perfect shade of pink. And we want her to look her best for the party, don’t we?”
My mother’s knuckle prodded me from behind. “Of course. And no worries. We’ll do it next time.” I didn’t mention that I could have sworn all three dogs looked relieved when I told them they weren’t going to see Pucci.
Rebecca looked at the paper bags Jayne and I held and sniffed. “Perfect timing. I’m famished. Follow me, ladies.”
Rebecca led us behind a double-winged staircase with wide brass banisters and across pink marble floors. My eyes blurred from the sheer quantity of rose-hued furniture on our way to the enormous rear patio. It overlooked the ocean and an infinity pool, but I don’t think any of us really noticed either one, as we were too busy taking in all the cushions, rugs, and tableware in every shade of pink imaginable. The pièce de résistance was a blush-colored stone statue of a mermaid, with two starfish placed strategically on the tips of her pendulous breasts, that protruded over the built-in grill.
Rebecca slid open the glass doors, folding them until they disappeared into the wall, then swept past us, her silk hem swishing over the marble. “The weather is just perfect right now, so I thought we’d eat outside.” She indicated chairs for us to sit around a large distressed-wood table stained a pale rose.
“It is lovely,” I agreed, thankful we had the open water to look at while eating. Jayne and I began taking the food out of the bags, my stomach rumbling loudly at the tangy sweet smell of the renowned barbecue sauce.
Rebecca picked up a glass pitcher of sweet tea and began pouring it into glasses already on the table. “It will be perfect for my shower in less than a week!”
“That’s not really a lot of time, Rebecca. I’ve been wondering if I might have a couple more weeks. I’ve got a lot going on, and I want to make sure that I have enough time to make this shower special.” Which was only partially true. Mostly, I was hoping that given more time she’d change her mind about the theme completely.
“Not to worry, Melanie. I’ve done all the work for you.” She picked up an accordion file sitting on a side table and helpfully placed it in my tote bag. “I’ve got the menu all set, the name of the caterer, and my plans for party decor. I wanted to hire your designer, Greco, but after I told him my plans, he realized that he was already booked for another job that night. Such a shame. And then, after looking around my house here, I realized that I didn’t actually need anyone else’s ideas.” She giggled.
I shared surreptitious looks with my mother and sister as I transferred individual food orders onto rose-decorated china plates.
“We thought this was supposed to be a planning session,” Mother said as she carefully took off her gloves to prepare to eat.
Rebecca’s expression grew serious. “Well, yes, but then I got to thinking that my tastes are a little more . . . refined than most people’s, so I decided to just go ahead and do it all myself. Besides, I didn’t get the impression that Melanie was completely on board with my shower theme, so I thought it best to take charge so I can be assured it will be the party I want. Not to mention the time crunch, of course. Luckily, I have a natural knack for design and entertaining, which allows me to come up with something brilliant with very little time.” She smiled brightly as she began slathering a hush puppy with honey butter. “But I’m glad you’re here, because there’s something else I wanted to talk about.”
“Yes?” I said, poking my fork into my Pig Out Salad, the compromise I’d made with Jayne for my lunch choice. She’d said that with all the bacon, cheese, and dressing it didn’t count as healthy. I’d had to point out that it was under the menu heading “Greens,” and therefore it did.
“Did you have another dream that you forgot to tell us about?” I asked.
“No,” Rebecca said primly. “It’s about Marc. I’m worried about him.”
I glanced at Jayne and our mother, who wore identical expressions of hesitant concern. Seeing as how they had evidently put me in charge, I said, “And why is that?”
Rebecca picked up a crinkle fry and dipped it into the honey butter, obviously unconcerned about the salt or calories or about double-dipping in our communal butter. “I’ve been following all those treasure sites and blogs to try to figure out what’s going on. And don’t try to deny it, Melanie. I know that you and Jack do, too. You’re obviously DonutGirl and Jack’s JT, although neither one of you ever posts anything. You just eavesdrop.”