The clock in the conference room chimed the hour, and Milo gaveled the room to silence, waiting a beat before speaking. "This being our last formal meeting before the upcoming Jubilee ceremonies, the chair moves to set aside our regular business and deal with any remaining concerns regarding the anniversary."

"I'll second." Shelia flapped a hand.

"So moved." Milo glanced at Amanda. "Alright then, Susan, if you could update us on the status of the event, please."

Susan opened her notebook and scanned the faces around the table. "First off, as most of you are aware, the wagon decorations have been completed, and the wagons are parked on the lot behind Antonio's parlour. I've spoken to the drivers and they will have the horses in place by six-thirty, Friday night. The parade itself kicks off at exactly eight-o'clock."

She poured some water from the communal pitcher and drank thirstily. "There will be four people in each wagon and this list will show you the breakdown." She took a sheaf of papers from her book and passed them around the table. "Shall I go on, or do you want to study this first?" She looked to Milo.

"I think a quick read is in order," he said, and everyone began rattling their copies.

"Who are these people in wagons five and six and eight?" Allen asked. Everyone quickly checked his or her list.

"We were so lucky to get them," Susan enthused, "they are all performers who have played our theatre in the past. Harold Muncie was actually here just two years ago."

"Never heard of them," Allen said.

"That's because you don't go to the theatre, Gregorio." Daryl piped up.

"Well excuse me, Mr. Playhouse Regular."

"Enough!" Milo raised his gavel threateningly. "Ah Susan, I see here you placed me in a coach with Everet Polasky."

"Yes, along with Arthur Paisley and Victoria Moss. Everet was the first mayor of Ashton Hills."

"Yes but- but that was then. He's a- a green grocer, today."

"Below your station, Braithwaite?" Jeffery drawled, from the far end of the table.

"Well no, but wouldn't it be more appropriate to have him in with, say..." he consulted the sheet, "Ivan Bader?"

"But then where would we put the high school student and Esmerelda?" Susan asked unhappily.

"Why is Diggs in the parade?" Daryl barked, "She's a store clerk, for God's sake."

"Esmerelda Diggs was a member of the original theatre guild. She and Victoria are the only remaining members, actually."

"I'm still not pleased with this arra—" Milo began.

"And who the hell is Galleria Preston?" Daryl, cutting him off noisily. Jean's eyes popped open wide, and she covered a snort with her hand.

"She's a local artist's model I think, at least that's what my wife tells me. I know Felicity Proctor uses her." Peter said to the querulous Daryl. Jean coughed and reached for her water glass.

"Are you all right Jean," Peter asked turning to her, "shall I open a window or something?"

"The windows are fine, "Milo interrupted. "I still would like to know—"

"So how does that get her a spot in the parade?" Allen joined the assault.

Susan explained what she knew of the person in question, and finished by pointing out that she was in the same wagon as Allen.

"Oohoo-o-o!" An appreciative roller coaster of sound, as he sat back and consulted his list once again. Jean excused herself from the table and carried her water from the room, giggling uncontrollably.

"What the hell was that about?"

"I should have opened the window."

"Forget the bloody window, what about this seating arrangement?"

"The seating is established, "Shelia cut in, "let's move on to the other items. Now, what about the red carpet?"

Happy to move on, Susan described the duties that Arlene and Carlos would be responsible for, which included both the carpet, and the lighting for the ceremony. "Carl Fetters also told me that the tickets are nearly all sold, so it looks like we've mounted a successful campaign." Milo stirred again, raising a finger. "Also," Susan hurried on, "Nigel will be reading a short history of the theatre's plays and introducing the dignitaries from the parade." She saw Milo's mouth open, and she speeded up her commentary. "Ross will be playing the piano for musical ambience, and along with Jean—my goodness, I hope she's all right—will be handling the curtains and any props."

"Does anyone else have to speak?" Daryl asked.

"Gosh I hope so. I mean I hope we can get some of the older actors to say a few words—and maybe the two critics from Toronto."

"So how long is this whole thing gonna last?" Allen.

"We've planned for a midnight, buffet party for the dignitaries and all the committees, in the theatre after the audience leaves. Hartley is catering."

"Of course."

"What happened to Gavin?" Shelia asked Peter in the gap that followed.

"Felicity says he has some business crisis or other. He won't be here; he's staying in the city for a few nights. Probably 'till Monday."

"Well, I guess that's it then. Meeting adjourned." Daryl pushed his chair back and stood.

Bang! "The chair is the only person permitted to adjourn, Osborne. And I'm not quite finished—"

"I'll second that," Shelia nodded, retrieving her purse and leaving the table as well. The rest of the group followed suit, leaving Milo pounding his gavel in frustration.

"I'll get these minutes typed and have them on your desk this afternoon." Amanda closed her pad and hurried after the others.

*****

"Drink up," Tiffany admonished her guest, "it's not often we get temperatures like this where we can loll around in next to nothing without getting fried to a crisp."

Patty took another gulp from her glass. "This is delicious. What's it called again?"

"The Osborne, Ball Shriveler. Many parts scotch, a few parts lime, and a dash of vermouth. Maybe you should just sip that."

"Mmmm, the only drink I ever usually have is a Brown Cow." Patty stretched long legs out on the lounge and set the cool glass on her stomach, closing her eyes.

"Yeah? Well just be careful. It can be a teat shriveler, too."

"I'm so glad I met you," Patty said, dreamily, "I would never have learned about- about those things, if I hadn't been able to call you."

"And now that you know?" Tiffany smoothed lotion down her shin and around her calf, alternating legs and then switching to her stomach.

"I don't know, I think I understand things better, I can be more tolerant and not be shocked so easily anymore. I mean, look at me now," she turned her head to face the other lounge, "if Peter saw me lying here like this, he'd—"

"Jump your bones." Tiffany laughed, liberally basting her pendulous breasts.

"Ti! You always make such... witty remarks." She sat up, dropping her bare feet to the deck. "May I have some of that?"

Ti handed her the lotion and squirmed back on the cushion, raising her large, heart shaped glasses and watching, as Patty lubricated her skin with the lotion. "Christ, you could use a few inches up top, darling. I wish I could sell some of these, some days they break my back."

Patty smiled prettily and lay back on the lounge. "What do you think will happen with Gavin?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know. This dressing up and all. Do you think he might be- might get to- to..."

"Like it?" She laughed again, slapping her thigh. "Patty darling, trust me. He likes it now."

"Oh no, I don't believe that. You should have seen how terrified he was at his place."

"Patty, you didn't even know it was him then," she scoffed. "Believe me, he wouldn't be getting into this parade thing if he was so terrified. I can't wait to see this." She chuckled gleefully.

"You wouldn't embarrass him or anything would you?"

"Embarrass him! How? He's already cast his lot."

"I know, but I just thought- I mean- I kind of thought he was... quite pretty." Tiffany raised her glasses slowly and studied the young woman curiously.