"I've invited the Sterlings over for dinner," she declared.
"You did what?" I asked, releasing the air hose from the tire valve.
"I invited them over," she repeated,
"Why? How?" I stood up, shocked by my mother's news.
"I called them up. Why is that so strange? People have been doing that for years."
"But-"
"Mrs. Sterling was so delighted," my mom continued. "I don't think anyone in town has invited them out socially, so I was proud to be the first one."
"That is very nice of you… but-"
"You don't want us to meet them? Or is it that you don't want them to meet us."
"Both."
"So you want them all to yourself." My mom sighed.
"Is there anything wrong with that? I just met them. Let me have some time alone before you start parading them through the country club functions."
"Well, if I'd known you'd felt so strongly… I guess I can call and cancel."
"Don't you dare! You can't; that would be rude."
"I knew you'd see it my way," she said, and gave me an overzealous mother- triumphs-again hug.
Since I was a kid, all Madison family meals were spent at the dinette-a small, rectangular wooden table with matching chairs. A few scratches and stains showed its age, like rings around a tree. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner; homework; and many school projects took place on this table and chairs. The dining room, however, was reserved for holiday and extended family meals. Suddenly, fancy tablecloths, sterling-silver candle holders, crystal salt and pepper shakers, linen napkins, and china flew out of the china cabinet.
"We don't have any black lace tablecloths," I called to my mom, who was in the kitchen preparing dinner. I searched through the cabinet drawers for Sterling-like decor. All I found in our possession was a pale crimson, a white lace, and a plastic floral one.
"Why would you want a black tablecloth?"
"Do you even know who you are inviting over?" I settled for a brown cloth with embroidered leaves and began setting out my grandmother's china.
"I can't remember a time when you set the table without being asked," my mom said, holding a glass vase with fresh flowers. "I'll have to invite the Sterlings over more often."
I positioned six plates evenly, measuring their distance by the width of my hand.
"You don't want to set it too early. It might collect dust," she advised.
"I want to make sure it's perfect."
Henry and Billy Boy ran up from the basement like an incoming army. "When's dinner?" Billy asked.
I was aghast. "He's not going to be here, is he?"
"Of course; he's part of the family."
"But I only set six."
"Then set eight. We have twelve place settings."
I imagined the conversation switching from talk of life in Romania to talk Star Trek conventions.
Rage raced through my blood. Billy Boy knew it, too. He raised his eyebrows in victory, and he and Henry took off for his room.
I followed the nerd-mates upstairs. I found my new Purse Party messenger bag on my nightstand and knocked on his door.
"No ghouls allowed," he hollered to a few boyish giggles.
I pushed the door ajar. I opened my wallet and flashed him a five-dollar bill. "You'll ask to eat at Henry's?"
His face lit up as if I'd just shown him a mint condition Luke Skywalker action figure. "Sure."
"You promise?"
"Cross my heart."
I gave my brother the bill.
He held it tightly in his hand. "That was to ask," he said. "Not to actually stay."
My instinct was to hit him over the head with my purse. However, he had been trained by the best, so I refrained.
I dug back into my wallet. I had three singles left. "This is *to stay,"' I said, handing him a single. "This is 'to eat.'" I handed him another bill. "And this is to 'not come back until late.'"
"We'll need money for a movie, then." "And nachos," Henry added. "I always eat nachos at the movies."
"I bet you do. Would you like money for video games, too?"
They both nodded eagerly.
"That was a rhetorical question." I snarled. "This is all I have." I handed him a wadded ten and twenty and lint-filled change, "But you can have my firstborn if you spend the night."
"That I'll pass on," he said as I blasted out the door.
"I thought we were going to have steaks!" I said when I returned to the kitchen. I was missing the aroma of marinade and instead saw scentless water boiling on the stove.
"I decided to make pasta instead," my mom said.
"The Sterlings can't eat that. They have to eat meat. And they like it rare."
"Why- are they animals?"
I bit my black lip.
"Are you sure we can't still get a catering company?" I asked. "Or at least help in serving? They're used to having a butler."
"We are who we are-we don't change for other people. You know that. I think cheese tortellini with salad will be great. Besides, your dad is trying to cut back."
"This isn't about Dad. We are hosts."
"I'm sure they love Italian."
I imagined a bloodthirsty and starving-to-the-bone Sterling family leering at my parents for their real meal.
"Doesn't anyone in this family listen to me?" I stormed around the kitchen and opened the fridge. I didn't expect to see blood-filled smoothies, but a girl can always hope. "They don't like garlic, remember. No garlic bread."
"I know, you've told me a thousand times."
"Well, you didn't remember I requested steaks," I mumbled.
"I'll need your help with the brownies," my mom nudged.
Jameson served flaming pudding. Sarah Madison served microwave brownies.
I zapped the dessert and realized I'd spent so much time figuring out what to wear to the Sterlings', I hadn't even begun to pick out what I'd wear tonight.
I raced upstairs and obsessed about what was the perfect attire to wear as one of the Sterlings' dinner hosts. I changed outfits at least five times and, naturally, I settled on the first outfit I originally had on-a frilly black lace skirt, white bodice, black-and-red-striped stockings, and Mary Janes.
I was exhausted by the time the doorbell finally rang.
16
I grabbed a knitted blanket and a pair of Billy's sneakers I that were sitting on the stairs and threw them into the hall closet. I straightened my skirt. "They're here!"
"Then answer the door!" my mom called.
I checked myself in the hallway mirror. I was pleased with my reflection. Oh my! I thought. Reflection! I immediately unhooked the mirror and carefully placed it in the closet.
The doorbell rang again.
"Answer the door, Raven/' my mother called. "They'll think we're not home!"
I smoothed out my skirt again and opened the door. Alexander looked gorgeous in a gray silk shirt and black jeans. Mrs. Sterling was packed into a tight black dress and dark knee-high boots, and she held a black lace parasol. Her attire was a fabulous combination of sixties and goth.
Mr. Sterling sported an impressive silk suit, lavender tie, and brooding half cape.
"Welcome to our home," I said.
My mom rushed over to us, wiping her hands off with a kitchen towel.
My dad came over and did his best to conceal his shock.
Mrs. Sterling collapsed her umbrella. "Mom, Dad, this is Mr. and Mrs. Sterling." My mom extended her hand. "It's lovely to meet you both."
"Hello. I'm Cassandra," Alexander's mom said. "I'm Paul, and this is Sarah," my dad responded.
"Constantine Sterling. Nice to meet you," Alexander's dad said.
"Here, let me take that," my dad said, taking the umbrella. "I didn't know it was raining"
"It isn't," she said evenly. Her violet eyelashes sparkled.
"Well, I guess you are prepared when it does."
"Come in and make yourselves at home. I'm just finishing up." My mom darte
d into the kitchen.
My father stuck the umbrella in the closet. "What's this doing in here?" he muttered, noticing the hall mirror lying against his tennis racket.
Dinner at the Madisons might have been the Sterlings' first time slumming it. Our house was nice, but it wasn't a monster-size megamansion.
My father led us into the living room.
"Your house is gorgeous," Mrs. Sterling remarked.
I clutched Alexander's hand for security. Now I could see why he had waited to introduce me to his family. The pressure was enormous. What would my mother say? What did they really think of my house?
Our house wasn't tidy, but my mom did clean it. At least the sight of a few cobwebs would make them feel comfortable.
"Can I get you something; to drink?" I asked. "Dinner's almost ready."
"Raven, I need you," I heard my mother bellow.
Of course she did. Now that I had company my mom was getting all demanding. I wanted to keep my eyes and ears on my father and our guests. How could I edit embarrassing conversation if I was out of earshot?
"Can I be of any assistance?" Mrs. Sterling kindly offered.
The Sterlings were aristocrats. I couldn't imagine Mrs. Sterling serving her own food. Her fingernails were so long, I wouldn't want them to break off carrying salad bowls.
"That's all right. W r hat would you like to drink?" I asked.
"I am so bloody thirsty," Mrs. Sterling said, "I could drink a horse."
My dad laughed. "I like your sense of humor."
"How about water?" Alexander answered.
"Perfect," I said, and exited before they could change his mind. In the kitchen I tried to pick up on their conversation. I was moving quickly and the ice dropped out of my hand, I returned with three waters. The drinks shook as I brought them out on a tray.
As soon as I entered the living room, the drinks clanking together, my dad and Alexander jumped up to assist me. "I'm not sure you have a future in the restaurant biz," my dad joked,
" I see Raven as the owner of a fashionable boutique," Mrs, Sterling said.
"Really?" my dad asked. "I was hoping she'd be a tennis pro, but as you see, she doesn't like to wear white."
Great.This whole evening was going to be my dad's chance at his comedy act-with me as the source of his material,
"Dad's embarrassing me already," I said to my mom, back in the kitchen.
"He's just having fun. Maybe he's a bit nervous, The Sterlings are very interesting people/'
I placed the rolls, butter, pasta, sauce, and salad on the table in record time.
"Dinner's on," my mom hollered as if she were Mrs. Walton ringing a dinner bell.
Alexander and I sat on one side and the Sterlings on the other, while my parents were at the head of the table. Our dining-room table was a third of the size of Alexander's. We all were in arm's reach of one another,
I noticed my mom staring at the wounds on Mrs- Sterling's neck, Mrs. Sterling must have sensed it, too as she turned to my mom.
"Just a small bite I received last night, Don't worry- it's not contagious."
"I didn't mean to-," my mom said apologetically,
"I thought it was a tattoo," my dad said, and we all laughed.
I caught my reflection in the glass curio cabinet. I couldn't help notice the lack of our company's shadows.
I knew my parents were now distracted with conversation, but once the wine flowed and the carb coma hit-it might be more obvious.
"Excuse me," I said,
I dimmed the lights so the glare wasn't so noticeable,
"Good idea. This is much cozier," my mom complimented me,
"I hope pasta is okay," I whispered to Alexander,
'This dinner looks delicious," Mrs. Sterling said.
"Thank you," my mom replied. "I bet you are glad to be settled here."
"Well, we will be off again soon," Mrs. Sterling said.
"Really?" my dad said curiously, "You travel a lot."
"We're going back to Romania," Alexander's dad stated.
"So soon? You just got here," my mom noted,
"For business or pleasure?" my father wondered.
"Both," Mr. Sterling answered.
"Alexander has told us that you are an art dealer," my dad said. "What is your specialty?"
"Whatever sells."
We all laughed at his honesty.
"I have several galleries and showcase up-and-coming artists as well as the masters," he explained.
"Our country club is having an auction next month," my mom chimed in. "Mrs. Mitchell is organizing it. Have you met her? "
Alexander's parents shook their heads.
"They're auctioning paintings from professional artists," my dad said. "I'm sure you might find some wonderful additions to your collection."
"I don't think you'd find a Picasso in this town. Unless, of course, Alexander was selling his work," I said proudly,
"I'm sure you could fill several galleries with Alexander's art/' my mom said. "We haven't seen his paintings yet, but Raven has told us he is quite talented."
"I thought he'd need schooling, but he has refused," Mr. Sterling said.
"He's a natural, then," my dad concluded. "My sister, Raven's aunt Libby, saw one of his paintings when Raven visited her. Libby said that Alexander's technique was extraordinary. She should know. She's in the arts."
"Well, he must take after my mother. She was very talented," Mr. Sterling said.
Alexander seemed uncomfortable. It appeared to me that Mr. Sterling didn't think Alexander was serious about his art.
"So Cassandra, what did you do today?" my mom asked.
"We mostly slept. And you?"
"I love days like those," my mom admitted. "I bet you are still adjusting to jet lag. Sometimes that can take awhile to shake off."
"I must say that Alexander has been such a changed young man since meeting Raven," his mother said.
"That is wonderful to hear." my mom said, touched. "Alexander is so mature for his age. And always a true gentleman."
"Thank you," Mrs. Sterling responded, upbeat. "Yes, Alexander is an old soul."
"You sure raised him right," my mom continued. "Whatever you've been feeding him all these years, I think some other mothers should follow your lead."
I nudged Alexander underneath the table.
"I do keep him on a strict diet,"Mrs. Sterling said in between sips of wine.
"So Constantine, do you play golf or tennis?" my dad interjected.
I thought I was going to die. But then again, Alice Cooper was an amateur golfer.
"I haven't played in years."
"So what do you do to unwind?"
"Fly."
"You are a pilot?"
"No, I- "
"My dad likes to travel," I jumped to say.
"We are hoping to take a vacation soon. It's just one day flows into another and then soon the kids are grown and the last trip we've taken was to Disney," my dad said.
"Raven tells us you like vampires?" Mrs. Sterling said directly to my father.
"We used to watch monster movies when she was a kid. I hope it didn't scar her."
"Raven's obsessed with them, if you haven't noticed," my mom teased.
"I think we have," Alexander's mom said. "It's something we share."
"You should come to Romania," Mr. Sterling suggested. "You could tour Dracula's castle."
"That sounds like a fun and very different family vacation," my dad said.
"Thank you again for inviting us, Mrs. Madison. You are a wonderful cook," Alexander blurted.
"We have plenty more pasta," my mother encouraged.
"I'm stuffed," Mr. Sterling said.
"Yes, me, too," Mrs. Sterling agreed.
"Would you like a cigar?" my dad asked Mr. Sterling.
I hated when my dad smoked cigars-though he rarely did. It smelled good for about five seconds until I began wearing it on my clothes and hair. My mother despised it as much a
s I did, which is odd since they spent most of their college years smoking things with all sorts of bad smells. I shooed them out to the patio as my mom and Mrs. Sterling disappeared into the kitchen.
Royal Blood Page 7