“Hello there.”


“Hello.”


“Elaine McCarthy, Ronnie’s aunt.” She held out her well-manicured hand.


“Rose Grayson. I’m…a friend of Ronnie’s.” She returned the gesture. Elaine removed her red scarf to reveal dyed brown hair.


“Well…” the older woman said, looking around, “Seems like Ronnie did a halfway-decent job.” She reached into her overstuffed pocketbook and pulled out a silver cigarette case. “I’m surprised the party is here this year. She’s managed to worm her way out of the last two family gettogethers.” A press of the button on the silver lighter and the cigarette glowed to life. “You know where the ashtrays are?”


“Um, no I don’t,” Rose replied, hoping the woman would take her foul-smelling vice somewhere else.


“Well, I don’t need it right this instant. So tell me, what happened?”


“I was hit by a car.” She shifted in her chair, uncomfortable with the memory.


“That’s a shame. But that’s what insurance is for, I guess. I hope you have a good lawyer.” Elaine exhaled, sending a stream of smoke into Rose’s face. “My plane was over twenty minutes late getting into Albany. I can drive through snow with no problem, I don’t understand why pilots whine so much about it. It’s not like they have to come to any sudden stops or anything.” The smoke hung in the air, forcing Rose to blink rapidly to keep from tearing up. “I guess people always needto complain about.”


Rose thought briefly about pointing out the fallacy in the wealthy woman’s thinking but decided against it. “I guess so,” she said, craning her head around to look for Ronnie.


“Exactly!” Elaine said enthusiastically, her movements causing ashes to fall on the carpet.


“Oh, let me go find you an ashtray.” Rose gripped the wheels of her chair and prepared to make her exit.


“Now why bother doing that?” Elaine caught the attention of a passing waiter. “Excuse me, I don’t see any ashtrays around here.” Her condescending tone was not missed by either Rose or the young man.


“I’ll get you one right away, Madam,” he replied.


“And I don’t think it would hurt anything for someone to start tending bar.” She turned her attention back to the blonde woman. “Really, you’d think we paid them to stand around.” Another ash fell onto the carpet. “When my husband Richard was alive, the workers never even thought about striking. They knew where their paychecks came from, then the damn unions came along…” Elaine paused long enough to pull a chair over, effectively cutting off any thought of escape Rose might have had.




Ronnie was not faring any better in the kitchen. “Mother…”


“Now there’s nothing wrong with speaking the truth, Veronica.” She cast a disdainful look around the room. “The refrigerator should be opposite the stove, not next to it. That is why we had it on the other side of the room.”


“It’s easier for Maria to work with it over here.” Ronnie had forgotten her mother had not been over since the remodeling last summer.


Beatrice stepped away from her daughter. “Heaven forbid Maria should walk a few steps to get the butter. It didn’t bother her mother when she worked for us.” She shook her head dismissively.

“Coddling, Veronica. I’ve warned you about coddling.”


“I don’t think moving the fridge ten feet constitutes coddling, Mother.”


“Of course you wouldn’t, dear.” The hairs on the back of Ronnie’s neck bristled at the tone. “And what did you get for rearranging the kitchen? Did Maria still ask for her annual raise? Of course she did. I’m sure most of this…” She pointed at the cook’s island and the dishwasher. “…was her idea.”


“Why don’t we go see the tree? They did a very nice job decorating it.”


“We’ll see.” Ronnie reluctantly followed her mother out of the kitchen.


Rose watched the two of them enter the living room, Ronnie pointing out the various decorations. “See how the ornaments from when Susan, Tommy, and I were kids are out? Isn’t that nice?”


“Very nice, Veronica.” For the first time since she entered the house, Beatrice actually smiled. “I remember, every year you would give me an ornament. I guess some family traditions are destined to fall by the wayside.” She turned and noticed her sister and the woman in a wheelchair. “Ah, there you are, Elaine. And who do we have here?”


“Mother, this is Rose Grayson. Rose, my mother, Beatrice Cartwright.” Ronnie’s voice remained pleasant but her eyes narrowed at the wisps of smoke rising from the crystal plate being used as an ashtray.


“Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Cartwright,” the young woman said.


“Grayson…Grayson…” The wrinkled brow furrowed with thought. “I don’t recall any Graysons. What happened to your face? And the rest of you?”


“I was in an accident.”


“Oh,” she tsked. “You poor thing. Such a pretty face ruined like that.” Beatrice moved to get a better look at Rose’s right cheek. “Well, don’t give up hope, dear. It is amazing what they can do with plastic surgery these days.”


Rose looked down at her lap, wishing she were keeping Tabitha company at the moment instead of being subjected to this torture. She did not see the empathetic gaze being cast on her by Ronnie. “I’m just happy to be alive.”


“Of course,” the matriarch said curtly before turning to face her daughter. “So what brings her to ourChristmas party?”


Rose was not sure which bothered her more, the fact Beatrice was speaking as if she was not there or that, with just a few short words, the older woman made her feel more like an outsider than ever. Suddenly a warm hand rested on her shoulder. “Rose is staying with me while she recovers.”


“Couldn’t her own people take care of her?”


“She’s a friend, Mothera guest in my home.” The hand on her shoulder gave a quick squeeze before withdrawing, a reassuring gesture the blonde woman greatly appreciated.


Beatrice looked at her daughter and nodded. “Of course, Veronica. We had no way of knowing that you had company. I’m sure the caterers can come up with an extra plate.”


“I’m sure they can.” On the surface, Ronnie appeared calm, but the rhythmic clenching of her jaw did not go unnoticed by Rose.


“Well…” Beatrice looked at her sister. “Elaine, I think there’s too much red on the lower branches. Come help me show these people how to properly decorate a tree.”


Elaine made only the barest of attempts to put her cigarette out. “The problem isn’t the balls, it’s the lights.” She set her purse down next to Rose’s chair. “Be a dear and keep an eye on this for me. I don’t want to have to drag it around.” She walked away without waiting for an answer.


“You okay?” Ronnie asked once the older women were out of earshot. She could only imagine what Elaine had said to Rose before she and her mother had entered the room.


The young woman took a deep breath before answering. “They are quite a pair, aren’t they?”


“I tried to warn you.”


“You weren’t exaggerating.” She looked up into deep blue eyes. “Ronnie, if it’s going to be a problem, I can go into the laundry room. I don’t mind, really.”


“I should have let you take that escape when you could,” she said apologetically. “Unfortunately they’ve seen you now. You’re stuck, just like me, until the last guest is gone.” She leaned down and whispered conspiratorially, “Welcome to the world of the rich and snobbish.” The doorbell announced the first in a stream of arrivals. “I guess it’s time to meet the rest of the family.”



* * *

In groups of twos and threes the relatives arrived, those that had planned on attending as well as those who decided after finding out it was being held at Ronnie’s home. Limousines and luxury cars lined the long driveway and filled the parking area while taxis dropped off even more attendees. The electronic age allowed word to travel quickly and word was thatplace to be on this evening was the old Cartwright Mansion.


Susan and Jack arrived almost an hour later than expected. The redhead joined her mother and sister while her husband headed for the bar. “What a crowd,” she said joyously as she approached.


“Yes, it does appear to be shaping up to be a success,” Beatrice replied. “Your brother isn’t here yet, though.”


“What a shame,” Ronnie muttered before taking a sip from her long stemmed champagne glass.


“What was that, dear?”


“Nothing, Mother.” She scanned the room. “Excuse me, I have to go tend to my guests. Susan, you can help greet the new arrivals.” Long legs carried her away before they could respond.


The corner opposite the tree seemed to be a good place for Rose to hide out. People stopped by, inquired about what had happened to her, gave sympathetic looks and moved on. She had been eavesdropping on a nearby conversation about the history of a particular ornament when she saw Ronnie moving through the crowd. Blue eyes smiled warmly at her as the tall hostess headed in her direction. “How are you?”


“Fine. Is that your sister?” She pointed at the redhead standing next to Beatrice.


“Mmm.” Ronnie took a sip, letting the tiny bubbles tickle her nose, and looked around.

“Everyone seems to be having a good time. I’ve heard more than one compliment on the decorations. Putting the old ornaments out along the streamers really was a good idea.”


“Thank you.” Rose smiled shyly and looked around the room. “Quite the crowd.”


“Yeah, and some of them were actually invited. Susan said there would be close to forty and we are well past that figure now.” Ronnie tasted the champagne again. “Where’s yours?”


Rose lowered her voice and looked around, not wanting to be overheard. “I didn’t think I should…you know, with the Percocet and all.” She felt alone enough being in a room full of strangers, but not being able to even join them in a simple toast made her feel even more isolated.


“Oh…I didn’t think of that.” Ronnie looked around and waved a serving person over, taking a step away from her in the process. The din of the crowd and the holiday music made it impossible for Rose to hear what was said. A few whispers later and the elegant hostess returned to her side.


Aloud she asked, “Is everything okay?”


“Fine. I just had to take care of something.” She retrieved her glass. “So have you met everyone?”


“I think so. It seems like I’ve been saying ‘hit by a car’ all night long.” The injured woman gave a short laugh. “There’s a little boy running around…”


“Tyler.”


“Yeah, he’s a cutie. Anyway, he was over here earlier. Stepped up on the coffee table before I could stop him and asked me if my stitches hurt.”


“Stepped…” Ronnie looked past her to check if there were any scuff marks. “He walked on my table?”


Rose smiled at her friend. “Don’t worry, I made him get down, but before I did, he leaned over and kissed my cheek.”


“He what?”


“He kissed my cheek. Said his mother did that to his boo-boos.”


“Tyler did that?”


“Yeah, isn’t that sweet?” She watched as Ronnie’s expression changed from one of annoyance to one of pleasure at the kind act.


The serving person arrived with a long stemmed glass filled with amber liquid. “Here’s your drink, Miss.”


“I didn’t…” Rose stopped when she saw the look on Ronnie’s face. “I mean, thank you.”she thought as she took the glass. The server smiled and walked away to take care of the other guests.


“It’s ginger ale. I thought you’d like something to drink that looked like the champagne,” the older woman said, taking a sip from her own.


“Yes, this is perfect,” Rose replied, bringing the glass to her lips. The tiny bubbles from the soda tickled her nose much like she supposed the champagne would. The color match was almost perfect. The ginger ale was so light in color that no one would suspect it was anything different from what they were drinking.