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pressed the intercom, not knowing what to expect next.
    “Hello,” a familiar voice said. “Can I help you?”
    “Heck yes, you can help me! Do you have my best friend Ruth Witherspoon in there or am I at the wrong house?”
    Ruth screamed. “I’ve been sitting on pins and needles waiting for you to show up. Just come up to the house and I’ll meet you out front!”
    The gate slowly began to swing open and I pulled forward past an array of security cameras. I thought about looking at my odometer to see how far it was to the house, but decided instead to just enjoy the grounds, which were being perfectly manicured by a staff of gardeners.
    When I reached the house, Ruth ran out of the front door, hands waving wildly in the air. What a relief to see she was still the crazy Ruth I knew from college. As I got out of the car, she almost knocked me over.
    “No way could I have missed you any more than I have! It would just be impossible. We’ve got so much to cover,” Ruth babbled, only stopping to catch her breath.
    “I’ve missed you too, girl. This looks like it may shape up to be a hell of a vacation. I feel like I’m staying at the Ritz," I said as I looked at the house and then sideways at Ruth.
    She smiled at me with a shrug of her shoulders. “It’s just home to me. Come on! I’ll show you your room and then we’re going to have our nails done. I already have the appointment set up ...my treat.”
    It didn’t take me long to realize that primping was why Ruth wanted me in Kansas City a few days early. First it was French manicures and pedicures, then hair styling and tints, a facial and massage. By the day of the party, we had run out of things we could do to make ourselves more attractive, so we spent the day picking out what we would wear to the big party.
    It was a good thing Ruth had a sister my size because nothing in my bag was dressy enough. With the plan being to look like a full-blown socialite, I picked a basic black gown with a high neckline and a plunging back. I felt more comfortable not seeing what part of my dress was missing.
    Ruth put black eyeliner and mascara on me to show off my blue eyes and painted my lips red. “Oh my God, how am I going to keep from getting this all over myself?” I asked Ruth as she told me to blot. Ruth, of course, had a finish coat for my lips that claimed would make me “kissable” for hours.
    Ruth always laughed at how naive I was because her motto was “bold is beautiful” and she was living up to that for the party. Her dress was a blood red number, slit up one side. The bling on her wide belt was almost blinding and couldn’t have been more fitting for her. Her hair was cut to just below her ears and tinted to deep brown, almost black. With makeup, jewelry and her four inch spiked heels, she looked beautiful.
    “Don’t you dare leave me alone tonight, Ruth,” I warned her. “I don’t want to be left alone in a room full of strangers.”
    “Oh, don’t worry, Hillary,” Ruth replied. “All of the guys will be flocking around you, so that’s where I’ll want to be.”
    By the time we walked to the waiting limo in front of the house, I was feeling incredibly nervous. I asked Ruth no less than a million times about the party, but she just kept saying, “You’ll see. It will be fine.”
    About 30 minutes later we pulled up in front of the Hotel Raphael. “Old world charm appeals to old money,” Ruth said as she turned to get out of the limo. The Raphael Hotel was 1920’s chic and added even more mystery to what the evening would hold.
    We approached the hotel’s enormous entry doors. “Nice to see you this evening Miss Witherspoon,” the doorman said with a nod as he opened the door for us. Not a huge surprise to me that the doorman knew Ruth by name.
    I paid close attention to balancing myself on my borrowed stiletto heels, frankly, being quite proud that I hadn’t embarrassed myself by turning an ankle. “How much longer before we find