Your divine Miss Comportment coming to you live via digital recording on my phone as I luxuriate on the banks of our beautiful Chickotee River and on the boat of a Lichtenstein prince.
Naturally.
The sun is long gone – but the party is in full swing. A jazz quartet is playing from inside, and out here on the deck, I am surrounded by party lights that glistening like fireflies in the summer dusk.
I have just realized that I never called that Bentley boy to cancel my ride. Well, that was rude of me, but when Miss Cassie, caterer extraordinare, called me to join her behind the scenes as she set up for this evening’s fete, I decided I needed to put my work first. I’m not sure many of us would have the guts to cater an affair celebrating the demise of one’s ex-husband (well, not his demise, per se, but … well, you know what I mean), so I simply had to know what in heaven’s name possessed her to do so.
It turns out that her reasoning was quite sound.
“Money.”
It seems our favorite proprietor has fallen on hard times, Middle Valley. Traffic in the bar is down. The weekdays – once filled with socials, lawyers working at the courthouse and long lunch meetings – are now empty but for the occassional tourist or walk-in from the courthouse. The retired teachers were a help this week, she said, but the “Mick Situation,” as she calls it, has everyone in a funk – and looking elsewhere for dining options that don’t involve rock-and-roll, divorces or murder.
Now this is simply NOT the Middle Valley I know and love. We help our people, and we support our businesses!
So, on hearing this soul-crushing news, I promised Miss Cassie that I would give you, my readers, the full report on it all – the food, the fabulousness, the fierce clothes, the fun!
We begin with the food … simply put, I cannot tear myself away from the lobster and truffle macaroni and cheese. So let’s start there. The diet begins tomorrow! (Oh, can’t you just hear everyone saying that to one another this evening??) Peruvian seabass and pan-seared scallops … main dishes, but I scored a bit of each early in the evening. A crisp Oyster Bay sauvignon blanc nearby. The air has a tinge of garlic, butter, rosemary … but if you lean too far over the railing, I’m afraid the scent of pond mud is still rather pervasive.
I’ll stay on this side!
I see Bernie skulking around looking the deck up and down with a glass in his hand. Brooding and mute, per usual.
I see Judge Pete! Oh goodness, where have the Nutwells been all this year, for heaven’s sake! I see … oh, wait, I see Elyse and – oh, that is him! – Carson on her arm. (Like you, dear reader, Miss Comportment is wondering if that is something Bernie expected to see out here this evening … going to guess ‘no.’)
Ah, and the divine Mrs. McMurtry, looking confused, wine glass in hand. She is, after all, playing hostess and re-emerging in her own right after that horrific fire took her home. (Rumor has it the book club has been on hold this whole time. Perhaps that’s why Cassie’s afternoon business is off, but I digress.)
The lovely Lindy – dressed in a white shirt and pants, looking every bit the royal – has emerged with Mercury not far behind, who also has a European sensibility about her frock this evening.
“May I have your attention?” Bitsy said, helping herself to the microphone. “I want thank you all for coming tonight and let you know that, as always, Middle Valley has come through yet again!”
Hmmm …
“Yes, indeed, give yourselves a round of applause because all of you have raised more than $350,000 this evening! We have ourselves a memorial, my friends!”
Another round of applause.
“And I must give a tremendous thank you to the one, the only, Carson Sigmund, who, after adopting our town as his own, has taken us under his wing with a donation of $100,000.”
More applause. (Dear readers, let’s not forget the man is loaded, okay? He can afford this.)
“Now, I’d like to hand the mic over to Carson as I know he has some VERY important news to share with us all, right Carson?”
More news?
“That is right, Bitsy,” he said. “As you know I’ve found a new life here with people that I genuinely care about and that have welcomed me like family.”
Oh. My. God.
“Now, I will actually be part of all of yours. Elyse Hughes has agreed to be my wife.”
Well, I don’t know about you, but Miss Comportment has questions …
Wait, I can hear a voice off to the side. “You … you did this!”
Now, all I can see is the outline of a large man and a gun in his right hand. I know that voice but I can’t place it … who’s voice is it?
“Wait! Paul! Don’t!”
Gunnar Olafsson