A liberal pinch of light from a ceiling of stars, reflected off the white bedsheet moulding the two forms beneath with an array of shadows. As the forms moved, the shadows reconfigured, changing in density and structure. Gertrude rolled to her side, pulling the sheet up and gazing in wonder at the huge skylight in the ceiling.

"It's magnificent, Arthur. I've never seen anything like it."

"Just an indulgent sop to my lonely nights, sweetheart.'

"It's almost like camping out," she remarked.

"I'm quite prepared to raise the tent again, if you like."

"Arthur!" She snuggled back against his warm skin, purring naughtily. "What about your guests?"

"Let them find their own partners." He growled a chuckle and pulled her over his chest."

You know I can't stay." She cooed, plucking the thin tangle of hair around his nipple.

"Aaah the pity," he sighed. "Maybe Ivan would be delightfully sympathetic if you phoned and said my car had broken down."

"Arthur," she chided, "Carmela has to be home before Antonio, and Ivan would be lost if he had to do without both a wife and a dominatrix."

"I've never understood that particular proclivity. Why would a man seek something like that outside of his own home?"

"Look to yourself, my dear."

"Touché."

*****

"I see Ross is part of your group again." Allen bit off his annoyance.

"It's not my group, Allen. Susan made up the roster."

"I didn't see you rushing to object."

"Why should I? I'm more than pleased to help with the Jubilee."

He bit into a small desert, dusting the front of his shirt with flakes of sugared pastry. "I'll just bet you are."

"If you have a specific point, Allen, make it. Otherwise, Tiffany probably needs her backside squeezed." Jean spun on her heel and marched off. The pastry shattered in his fingers and sprayed in a small shower about his shoes.

Darlene stood close to Henry behind the bar listening to Antonio's instructions for concentrating on business first and Jubilee commitments second. Their participation wouldn't be needed until the last minute, and as professionals, would have no difficulty in executing the required duties. This, he made abundantly clear with an upraised forefinger and a grim visage.

"I'm certain we'll be expected to take part at some point prior to the last minute, Mr. Begarra." Darlene object mildly.

"A consequence, I'm equally certain, not requiring all of us to attend." He cocked an eyebrow to underscore the validity of his judgment.

"He's probably right," Henry said, after he'd left. "Whoever needs their hair done won't wait until show time, and makeup for a parade and a few speakers—heck, that's nothin'".

"I suppose, but does he have to make it sound like an edict?"

"You know Antonio." He shrugged and gave Darlene a hug. "I hope they all bugger off soon." He said wishfully.

"You could always close the bar. I don't see Mr. Paisley around."

"Uh, uh, Sugarbum, Henry Matute doesn't waste opportunities like this. He called me the best bartender in town."

"Well...Sugarbum... thinks you're better at other things, so if it isn't too late when you get off, I'll be at home."

"You're not leaving!"

"Whenever I can get a ride... Honeypants." She flashed a beautiful smile and sashayed out toward the garden.

"I saw that Darlene, you vixen." Amanda giggled into her drink. "You tryna be the African American answer to Tiffany?" Darlene sat beside her on the wall and the two women bumped together, laughing.

"What did I miss?" Tiffany quizzed, tottering over the flagstones on her spike heels, her massive bosom undulating like a threatening tsunami.

"I was just asking Darlene—"

"She was just being funny," Darlene broke in and changed the subject. "Can I get a ride with somebody, it looks like Henry's going to be late?"

"What about Nigel and Victoria, he seems pretty anxious to get out of here?"

"They came by cab." Amanda.

"So, she can share the ride home. Nigel probably wouldn't let you pay anyway. He's such a gentleman, don't you think."

Darlene nodded and looked out across the garden.

******

A misty drizzle of warm rain greeted the morning traffic snaking its way through town. On the busy sidewalks, some people scurried under newspapers and umbrellas, while others maintained a casual pace, faces to the sky, enjoying the refreshing spray. The banner across the centre of the main street, directly in front of his grocery store, flopped at one corner, and Everet Polasky teetered on an aluminum stepladder, struggling to retie the errant rope.

A few pedestrians paused to superintend from the shelter of doorways, applauding the elderly man's efforts. Successful at last, he clambered down, folded the ladder and trotted it into his shop.

"Nice job, Everet." Jeffery Richardson said, waiting to pay for a bag of grapes from the bin beside the cash.

"Woulda bin nicer if I'd had some help," he grumped, wiping his hands and making change.

"Now Everet, the exercise'll do you good." Jeffery slipped the change into his pocket and dashed across the street to his office.

Ellen and Denise had regaled him at breakfast with the events of the previous meeting, adding that his refusal to attend left him out of the loop. Jeffery pleaded business demands, pointing out that not only was one member of the household already involved, but a surrogate member as well—and—he still contributed as a member of the council.

The gossip was entertaining though; he would have given a bit to see Milo shuffled aside as emcee. They outlined all the committees for him, described the house and how Mrs. Bader had arrived and disappeared until everyone was leaving, opening up a huge line of speculation. He also learned that they would be quite busy looking after the decorations and attending still more meetings in the coming weeks.

Dinners, if at home, would be quick and dirty, or take-out. Jeffery could please himself as to how he handled that. Arlene, their daughter, was hardly ever home for meals anyway, so there would be no change there. His solution was, to wish them well, and bury his nose in his practice.

"Morning Jesse," he called to his nurse, closing the frosted glass door and dropping the bag of grapes on her desk. "Rinse those off and put them in a bowl for the kids, would you please."

"This isn't a buffet, Dr. D." She scowled.

He raised a hand, "Jesse, please?" The Dr. D. had annoyed him when she first started using it, a circumstance brought about her refusal to accept the fact that a dentist was a doctor. They didn't call doctors dentists, did they? His attempt at an explanation was fluffed off, and she had snidely started calling him, Doctor Dentist, eventually abbreviating it to the current form.

"There's another doctor waiting to see you." She snapped, grabbing the bag and goose-stepping to the coffee room.

Jeffery took off his jacket and went through another door into his examination room.

"Hi, Jeff." Grace Winston stood by the window, thumbing a magazine.

"Grace! What are you doing here? Did we have an appoi—?"

"Just passing by. Thought I'd drop in and see what you had on... for tonight."

He wagged his head. "Grace I can't—"

"What with all the meetings going on about the anniversary thing, and neither of us involved directly, I thought we might at least find time for a drink. I'm back at the hospital for three days on Thursday." She pouted.

"Look grace, I- it just- I don't—"

"Dr. D.! Your first real appointment is here." Jesse bellowed from the front office, filling Jeffery with relief and drawing a defeated sigh from Grace.

She sat in her car and thumbed the buttons of her cell phone. "Good morning, is Donald Gregg there, please." Tapping the wheel, she listened to the nasal explanation from the receptionist at the car lot. "He won't be back until when? Around seven tonight, I see. Is he coming back to the office, or... he is? Good. Would you please tell him his doctor wants to arrange for an appointment this evening? It's Dr. Winston... yes. No, nothing's wrong. It's just a check-up...and a few simple tests. Thank you very much." She rang off and sat back, debating how to fill the rest of her day.