Night Whispers
Page 49
"I'll take this in to Noah. I'm already dressed to go out…" she hinted. As they left Carter's office, she said happily, "We'll have a wonderful time. We'll spend the day being pampered and come home and get dressed for your 'debut.' "
Sloan left her at the staircase and headed upstairs to her room. Paris took the party list into the dining room and sat down at the table. She checked off several names on the list; then she looked at her father and her great-grandmother. "How many people do you want to invite? It's such short notice that half the people will have other plans, so we ought to figure on inviting twice as many."
"Keep it small," Carter bit out.
Noah ignored him and looked at Paris. "Check off the people you particularly want to invite, and I'll pick out the others. We know the same people."
Paris checked off several names on each of the eleven pages and handed the entire list to Noah.
"I'll have Mrs. Snowden take care of everything else," he promised, standing up. "Is seven o'clock all right with you?"
"That's fine," Edith said. "The weather has been so pleasant; I wish we could have a garden party."
"I'll see what I can do," Noah said, already turning to leave.
"Keep the damned thing small," Carter reminded him.
Edith's thoughts shifted inexorably to money. "There's no need to be extravagant," she called after him. "Feed them hors d'oeuvres, not a banquet. Two of our servants can act as waiter and bartender; we don't need to pay the caterer's staff for that."
"I'll take care of it," Noah said curtly over his shoulder.
"We'll need champagne," Paris reminded him.
"Domestic champagne," Edith stipulated.
He was around the corner, starting down the hall, when Paris caught up with him. "Noah," she said worriedly, lowering her voice, "maybe we should wait to give the party."
His jaw tightened. "What are you worried about? The cost? The fact that your family's skeleton is coming out of the closet? Or is it the competition from Sloan you're worried about?"
She stepped back as if he'd slapped her. "What are you talking about?"
"What are you trying to talk about?" he shot back.
"I—I'd rather wait and have a lovely party than toss together some shabby little affair like Father and Great-grandmother are describing. Father isn't thinking clearly. We've always given beautiful affairs, and if Sloan's party isn't like that, people will think she doesn't matter enough for us to bother. The good caterers need plenty of notice to plan menus and hire staff, and they'll all be booked solid right now. Then there's flowers and music and chairs and tables and linens—there's no way to arrange for all that in a few days, let alone a few hours."
Noah's anger with her vanished, and his expression softened. "I apologize for misjudging your motives," he said gently. "I should have known better. Leave the details to me."
Courtney and his father looked up when Noah strode into the house. "What's up?" she asked eagerly, noticing the determined set of his jaw and his long, swift strides.
"Carter is giving a party for Sloan," he replied without stopping. "Is Mrs. Snowden upstairs?"
Courtney gave an indelicate snort. "Where else would she be? She follows you from city to city, house to house, hotel to hotel, ever at your beck and call, twenty-four hours a day…"
It was an exaggeration, but Noah didn't bother to point that out. Mrs. Snowden's sister lived forty miles from Palm Beach, and when he went there twice a year, she accompanied him. It was an arrangement that worked well for both of them; Noah always had a limited amount of work for her to do even when he was on vacation, and in return for working a few hours each day, Mrs. Snowden got an all-expense-paid trip to see her sister.
"Good morning," she said, turning around from the file cabinet as he strode into a library that doubled as his office when he was in Palm Beach.
"How is your sister?" he asked automatically.
"Fine."
The social amenities over, Noah sat down behind his desk and nodded for her to sit down across from him. "We're going to give a party," he announced, shoving a notepad and pencil across the desk to her.
"I thought you said Carter Reynolds was giving the party," Courtney said, plopping into the chair beside Mrs. Snowden's and swinging her leg over the arm.
Noah ignored her, and so Mrs. Snowden picked up the pad and pencil. "When is the party to be?" she asked, pencil poised.
"Tonight."
She drew the obvious conclusion. "A small dinner party?"
"Something a little larger."
"How much larger?"
Instead of answering immediately, Noah scanned the pages of names and addresses of the Reynoldses' friends in Palm Beach. He picked up a pen and drew a line through names belonging to people he personally didn't like, and people he thought Sloan wouldn't like; then he slid the pages across the desk to her. "About a hundred and seventy-five people, I'd guess."
"Since it's such short notice and you want to serve dinner, I assume you want to have it at one of your clubs? Although, I really don't think there's enough time for—"
"I want to have it at Carter Reynolds's house on the lawn."
She blinked at him. "You want to give an outdoor dinner party tonight for one hundred and seventy-five people? That means hiring caterers—"
He brushed over that problem. "You can do it buffet style, the way we did the last one here, but have plenty of waiters available to pass food on trays for guests who don't want to stand in line. I want everything first class."
"Naturally," she said, but she looked shaken.
"Have plenty of champagne on hand—Dom Pérignon. Oh, and get some of those ice things, too. They look nice on the tables—"
"Ice sculptures?" she asked weakly.
"Yes. And flowers, of course."
"Of course," she echoed faintly.
"We'll need an orchestra, too. You know the routine. You've done it dozens of times for me in the past."
"Yes, but not on this short notice!" she exclaimed, looking ready to cry at having to admit there was something she couldn't do. "Mr. Maitland, I really don't think there's any way I can do all this."
"I don't expect you to do it," he said impatiently. "We just bought two hotels here. Let them do it."
Mrs. Snowden now saw a way to accomplish what was still going to be a Herculean task, logistically and diplomatically, and she rose to the challenge at once. "I will prevail on the managers of the hotels," she declared, beaming.
Sloan left her at the staircase and headed upstairs to her room. Paris took the party list into the dining room and sat down at the table. She checked off several names on the list; then she looked at her father and her great-grandmother. "How many people do you want to invite? It's such short notice that half the people will have other plans, so we ought to figure on inviting twice as many."
"Keep it small," Carter bit out.
Noah ignored him and looked at Paris. "Check off the people you particularly want to invite, and I'll pick out the others. We know the same people."
Paris checked off several names on each of the eleven pages and handed the entire list to Noah.
"I'll have Mrs. Snowden take care of everything else," he promised, standing up. "Is seven o'clock all right with you?"
"That's fine," Edith said. "The weather has been so pleasant; I wish we could have a garden party."
"I'll see what I can do," Noah said, already turning to leave.
"Keep the damned thing small," Carter reminded him.
Edith's thoughts shifted inexorably to money. "There's no need to be extravagant," she called after him. "Feed them hors d'oeuvres, not a banquet. Two of our servants can act as waiter and bartender; we don't need to pay the caterer's staff for that."
"I'll take care of it," Noah said curtly over his shoulder.
"We'll need champagne," Paris reminded him.
"Domestic champagne," Edith stipulated.
He was around the corner, starting down the hall, when Paris caught up with him. "Noah," she said worriedly, lowering her voice, "maybe we should wait to give the party."
His jaw tightened. "What are you worried about? The cost? The fact that your family's skeleton is coming out of the closet? Or is it the competition from Sloan you're worried about?"
She stepped back as if he'd slapped her. "What are you talking about?"
"What are you trying to talk about?" he shot back.
"I—I'd rather wait and have a lovely party than toss together some shabby little affair like Father and Great-grandmother are describing. Father isn't thinking clearly. We've always given beautiful affairs, and if Sloan's party isn't like that, people will think she doesn't matter enough for us to bother. The good caterers need plenty of notice to plan menus and hire staff, and they'll all be booked solid right now. Then there's flowers and music and chairs and tables and linens—there's no way to arrange for all that in a few days, let alone a few hours."
Noah's anger with her vanished, and his expression softened. "I apologize for misjudging your motives," he said gently. "I should have known better. Leave the details to me."
Courtney and his father looked up when Noah strode into the house. "What's up?" she asked eagerly, noticing the determined set of his jaw and his long, swift strides.
"Carter is giving a party for Sloan," he replied without stopping. "Is Mrs. Snowden upstairs?"
Courtney gave an indelicate snort. "Where else would she be? She follows you from city to city, house to house, hotel to hotel, ever at your beck and call, twenty-four hours a day…"
It was an exaggeration, but Noah didn't bother to point that out. Mrs. Snowden's sister lived forty miles from Palm Beach, and when he went there twice a year, she accompanied him. It was an arrangement that worked well for both of them; Noah always had a limited amount of work for her to do even when he was on vacation, and in return for working a few hours each day, Mrs. Snowden got an all-expense-paid trip to see her sister.
"Good morning," she said, turning around from the file cabinet as he strode into a library that doubled as his office when he was in Palm Beach.
"How is your sister?" he asked automatically.
"Fine."
The social amenities over, Noah sat down behind his desk and nodded for her to sit down across from him. "We're going to give a party," he announced, shoving a notepad and pencil across the desk to her.
"I thought you said Carter Reynolds was giving the party," Courtney said, plopping into the chair beside Mrs. Snowden's and swinging her leg over the arm.
Noah ignored her, and so Mrs. Snowden picked up the pad and pencil. "When is the party to be?" she asked, pencil poised.
"Tonight."
She drew the obvious conclusion. "A small dinner party?"
"Something a little larger."
"How much larger?"
Instead of answering immediately, Noah scanned the pages of names and addresses of the Reynoldses' friends in Palm Beach. He picked up a pen and drew a line through names belonging to people he personally didn't like, and people he thought Sloan wouldn't like; then he slid the pages across the desk to her. "About a hundred and seventy-five people, I'd guess."
"Since it's such short notice and you want to serve dinner, I assume you want to have it at one of your clubs? Although, I really don't think there's enough time for—"
"I want to have it at Carter Reynolds's house on the lawn."
She blinked at him. "You want to give an outdoor dinner party tonight for one hundred and seventy-five people? That means hiring caterers—"
He brushed over that problem. "You can do it buffet style, the way we did the last one here, but have plenty of waiters available to pass food on trays for guests who don't want to stand in line. I want everything first class."
"Naturally," she said, but she looked shaken.
"Have plenty of champagne on hand—Dom Pérignon. Oh, and get some of those ice things, too. They look nice on the tables—"
"Ice sculptures?" she asked weakly.
"Yes. And flowers, of course."
"Of course," she echoed faintly.
"We'll need an orchestra, too. You know the routine. You've done it dozens of times for me in the past."
"Yes, but not on this short notice!" she exclaimed, looking ready to cry at having to admit there was something she couldn't do. "Mr. Maitland, I really don't think there's any way I can do all this."
"I don't expect you to do it," he said impatiently. "We just bought two hotels here. Let them do it."
Mrs. Snowden now saw a way to accomplish what was still going to be a Herculean task, logistically and diplomatically, and she rose to the challenge at once. "I will prevail on the managers of the hotels," she declared, beaming.
