Carlos slipped off the couch, whacking his hip painfully on the low coffee table, when the telephone rang. Cursing, he hauled up his jeans, massaging his hip, as Arlene answered breathlessly.

"Mrs. Croft! No- everything's fine. Eh? No, I- I uh- the phone just startled me. Candy's just fine; she's sound asleep. Yes, yes, I've been up several times to check. Pardon? Yes, we read the books and she had her juice and cookies. How's the party go- eight sharp, Mrs. Croft, just like you said. Yes. Okay. You just enjoy yourself and don't rush home; we're just fine. Right. Bye." She reached over and mussed her boyfriend's hair.

"Son of a bitch, that hurt."

"Where were we?" Arlene cooed, wiggling back down on the couch and holding her arms out.

*****

"I told Allen this evening would be a total bore." Jean Gregorio and Grace Winston stood by themselves alongside the piano, munching on hors d'oeuvres and sipping cocktails. Grace was the last of the residents to arrive, and she quickly sought the safety of female company when Daryl began fishtailing toward her.

"I hope Jeffrey's dental business functions better than his entertaining." Jean swallowed the rest of her drink and set the glass on the piano. Grace's mood was ambivalent. She was actually enjoying herself, albeit unescorted; the stress of yesterday's schedule at the hospital had left her completely sapped when she finally arrived home, receding only after a long, soothing soak in her Jacuzzi equipped bathtub. Looking back from her appraisal of the pool, she caught the pianist's eye and tweaked a small grin.

"Good evening ladies, my name is Ross." Fingers danced up the keyboard with familiar dexterity. "Any requests?"

"Yeah, how about, Hit the Road Jack!"

Ross smiled nonchalantly. "Not having a good time?" With an exaggerated cant of his head in her direction, he began playing her request at a slow, melodic pace, replete with flourishes that used the entire keyboard.

Jean gave him a sardonic grin and muttered, "Smart ass."

Grace drained her glass and picked up Jean's from the piano. "I'm getting another drink, you want one?" She asked, sliding off with an amused twinkle in her eye.

"Yes please, a triple. I'll wait here and trade barbs with good old romantic Ross. Maybe dig up some poop on his boss. "

He gave her a quick appraising stare, finishing the piece with a series of descending single base notes. "Are you All- Mr. Gregorio's wife?" She looked down at his finger, still resting on the last key. "No, he's my husband." Grace paused to give the pianist a wink, and swished her way slowly through the crowd to the bar. Across the room, gulping down his drink so abruptly he nearly gagged, Daryl swam quickly but warily in her wake, primping his designer costume.

When the pre-programmed melody of the door chimes sounded, Ellen came and stood defiantly in the kitchen entry, glaring across the room at her husband. Meekly, Jeffrey excused himself and made his way to the front hall, patting the air toward his wife, with a calming gesture.

"Victoria! So nice of you to come. Step in, please. And you must be Nigel. Jeffrey Richardson, I'm the ah, local dentist." He pumped Nigel's hand, stooping slightly to study his smile.

"Thank you for having us, uh, Jeffrey. This is a beautiful area." Nigel took Veronica's shawl, and finding no place to set it down, folded and tucked it under his arm.

"Just our humble little piece of paradise," Milo boomed, breezing into the foyer to embrace Veronica. "It's been too long Veronica, but don't you look devastating." He held her arms wide, stepping back and showering her with his benevolent gaze. "And this is young Nigel, is it?" He took Nigel by the hand and elbow, drawing him closer. "Milo Braithwaite, Nigel. I'm the chairman of our little town's council," he preened.

Nigel considered introducing himself by name and occupation, deferring instead to a simple smile and a nod.

"Come in, come in. Jeffrey, where are your manners? A drink for our guests." Milo walked between them into the living room, murmuring cleverly, "Jeffrey is only used to hosting people who are in pain, or unconscious." Nigel did a quick sweep of the room speculating as how Jeffrey's talent might be employed, sooner than later. Ellen strode stiffly from the kitchen, as Milo was making introductions, arms folded and wearing a grim, tight-lipped smile. She waited silently until he finished, then cleared her throat dramatically.

"Ah, oh, my goodness, there you are! I should be drummed from the community if I failed to present our lovely hostess, Ellen Richardson. Ellen, this Nigel Stainway, and of course you know Victoria."

Ellen offered a limp hand and matching smile, while narrowing her eyes at the elderly woman. "Delighted you could come."

"As are we, Mrs. Richardson. Your home simply takes one's breath away... and if I may be so bold... your own visage imprisons it." Nigel smiled charmingly.

"Eeeeeeew!" Susan's gushy cry fell like a dropped egg into the ensuing silence.

"Christ, there she goes again," Tiffany moaned aloud.

"I beg pardon?" Victor turned stiffly to the imposing figure of Tiffany, standing next to him, his eyes dipping into the vee of her dress and snapping quickly up to her face.

"What are you feeding her these days, Vic? She's been eeewing all over the place lately."

Ellen's hands flew to her throat and her hair; dampness on her neck and beneath her arms, threatening to soil her dress. "How- how gracious, Mr. Stainway..." Her jaw hung open as she stood swimming in his attentive gaze.

"A drink, Nigel?" Jeffrey stepped between them giving his wife a curious stare.

Denise leaned one elbow on a crossed knee and twiddled with the stones on her necklace. Ellen's reaction to Stainway's compliment stirred something deep inside her; the radiant glow of Ellen's flushed skin, the delicate dance of her slender fingers as they touched at her hair, everything about her demeanor gave Denise a strange, light-headed feeling. Suddenly feeling embarrassed, she sat back and turned her attention to Donald, who was in a head to head conversation with Ivan Bader about the merits of the Lexus over a Mercedes.

*****