A Catered Birthday Party Read Online Free Page A

along the left wall had already been set up with bottles of sparkling water, sparkling cider, and various kinds of soda. What had she said? Libby tried to remember her exact words. Something to the effect of trying to limit the things that the animals couldn’t partake in so both species could have a more communal experience. Which was the rationale for not serving coffee or tea with dessert. Not that Libby was complaining. That just made things easier for her, since nowadays you had to serve both regular and decaffeinated coffees, as well as a variety of teas.
    Libby looked around and decided to put the nuts and olives on the end tables where the dogs couldn’t get at them, rather than on the coffee table, which was snout level. After she’d placed them to her satisfaction, she walked into the pantry to make sure that all the serving pieces she and Joanna had faxed each other about were out. Which they were. She’d give Annabel and Joanna kudos for that. They were efficient. Unpleasant, but efficient.
    Out of force of habit, Libby moved the Limoges china platters and bowls slightly so they were all perfectly aligned, then checked on the glasses—Waterford—to make sure there were no smudge marks, which there weren’t, and then she inspected the wine.
    Three bottles of Lafitte plus one bottle of Annabel’s wine, an obscure Spanish red, had been set out. She carefully moved them all a little farther down the counter so she’d have room to bring in the salad and the vegetables. Then she made sure that the corkscrew, although this was a way fancier device, was next to the bottles.
    She was glad that Richard was opening and decanting the wine, because she always had visions of having the cork break off in a two hundred–dollar bottle of the stuff. She gave the pantry one last look to make sure everything was in place—in catering it was all about the details—and left.
    On her way back to the kitchen she could hear Richard and Annabel screaming at each other out in the main hallway. Richard was calling Annabel a stupid cow and she was calling him a turd. Not a good sign, Libby decided as she quietly tiptoed behind them so they wouldn’t turn around and see her. But she needn’t have worried. They were too engrossed in their hostilities to be aware of anybody else.
    Great, Libby thought. Host and hostess fighting. Dogs running all over the place. Probably on the table. Despite what Bernie said, in Libby’s humble opinion the prognosis for this event was not good. She wondered how bad things were going to be as she watched a woman she presumed to be Trudy’s tooth brusher come down the stairs and go out the side door. If she was done, that meant that Annabel and Trudy would be in the kitchen soon.
    Libby could wait. But as she looked on the bright side, they’d already been paid enough to cover their materials and time. Even if worse came to worse and they didn’t get their 20 percent, they’d still be ahead of the game. It would just be a trying couple of hours. Libby would remember that thought frequently in the days ahead.

Chapter 3
    T hree-quarters of an hour later, Bernie and Libby heard the doorbell in the mansion chime, “How much is that doggie in the window?” That in turn was followed by footsteps, voices, barks, and squeals of laughter.
    “The guests have arrived,” Bernie said as she put slivers of tomato on the plate containing the goat cheese toast points, a last minute addition.
    “At least they’re on time,” Libby noted.
    It was especially bad when they were serving something like a roast, and guests were half an hour or more late. You could keep things warm, but the taste really suffered. At least here they were serving steaks, which were a lot less tricky. Libby was thinking about the timing when the kitchen door was flung open and Annabel and Trudy strode in followed by three women and a knot of snuffling, snorting pugs.
    Trudy was dressed in a mink stole and pearl choker, while the