Dalton held out a pink- papered, custom wrapped cigarette to be lit.She expected me to light it, not because it was the nice thing to do. Butbecause she was rich and I wasn't and that's the sort of thing richpeople think people who have to balance the checkbook for themselvesshould do.I contemplated letting her wait. I thought about Catalina Island. Niceday for a sail. Did I really want to cope with this spoiled woman-childwhose idea of social grace was to make me her butler? Where was the easyone I ordered? I could work on my chess. There-was a new computer thatplayed, they said, like Kasparov. The ad in Chess Today claimed it beatsa master in fifty moves. I could beat it. I had a secret move I had beenworking on. Why not sit in the sun and play Sicilian defenses?She inhaled deeply as I lighted her cigarette. Choke, bitch. I gave hermy "B" smile.The wealthy Mrs. Dalton had the tall, bland, chiseled looks you might seein an beauty shop magazine advertisement for Swedish soap. I wouldn’t know where to start if I had to cook for the thing. And if I wasn’t mistaken, Evie was part of that Friendsgiving group.That Saturday I put the house in order for our young adult guests. Everything was put away and cleaned up. I made sure the hot tub was at the perfect temperature, and had the fireplace ready for when the wet partygoers moved back indoors.I hurried to get in a shower, maybe even needed to take a cold one. I stood under the water wondering if things would be awkward. Was I hoping for more? Yes, I think. It was going to be an interesting party.I put on some nice clothes and a hint of cologne, one that you might only smell if you were in my personal space. Look at me, acting like I had a possible date.Everyone had arrived on time except for Evie. I began to have my doubts. It wouldn’t have surprised me if she was a no-show after the change in venue.Appetizers were soon devoured and we couldn’t wait any longer. I was carrying the turkey to the dining room when.
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