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friend’s
aura was off. There was definitely something wrong. Keeping her
answers short and professional, Abby made no small talk and her eyes
were downcast. Because she too had her bad day’s (much like
yesterday), Victoria left the matter alone. If it continued into the
night, she would gently ask her friend if she could help. Maybe she
just needed space.
    Tonight there would
be a change in menu. Some specially invited guests were added to the
list and they wanted something a tad more substantial to eat. It was
time to get creative.
    There was something
about pasta that moved Victoria, especially when bathed in some type
of creamy sauce. The idea of a layered pasta bowl had been with her
for a while and today Dawson and his rich friends would have some.
The center would be some kind of surprise. Her mouth watered thinking
about it, but that was just the main course, what of the entrée
and dessert?
    Soup - there was a
soup recipe she had concocted years ago that included crab and
spinach and a whole lot of pimento peppers. That would work for an
entrée and the dessert would be a parfait. It seemed layers
would be the theme for the night and she laughed at how it compared
to her personality. Love, sadness, pleasure, pain and survival - all
layers of her to be peeled back and exposed. As she washed the
spinach for the beginning of her soup she remembered Timothy and his
words, “You only live once.”
    *****
    The DMC Theater Live
was bustling with activity and anyone observing would believe it was
opening night. There were photographers and journalist conducting
interviews and an artist had been hired to capture live drawings of
the action. The air was wired with excitement and activity. Abby was
still cold, but there was no time to coddle her. It was almost time
for lights, camera, action.
    Dawson looked like
something out of an old novel with his brown blazer and fedora. He
was entirely too much drama. The actors and actress disappeared
behind the curtain and the play began. Sometime during the second
act, Dawson turned to search the small crowd for Victoria. She sat in
her customary position near the dining room she ran. Victoria caught
his smile and wink and returned them before she caught herself. Damn
this man.
    Behind her back,
Abby saw the exchange and was reminded of her failure to capture the
rich man’s heart. Life was entirely too unfair and maybe she
would have to step out of character to balance the uneven scales.
Friendship would have to take the back burner for a while.
    With just fifteen
minutes to go before the performance ended, the wait staff assembled
for instruction. Tonight there would be no buffet but rather a full
sit down dinner service.
    The tables were
already laid and Victoria had inspected the cutlery and glassware
with a fine tooth comb. She hated dry water droplet stains. The
rousing round of applause indicated the beginning of Palette’s
own performance. A few minutes later, the actors stepped into the
room as well as the selected few from the journalist and
photographers.
    Small ramekins
containing the festival soup as she called it, was placed in front of
the hungry patrons and Victoria held her breath for the reactions.
The lead actress closed her eyes and clutched her chest as a look of
pleasure crossed her face. It was a home run.
    Because Dawson
believed himself to be one of the people, he too sat and ate with his
dedicated staff. At the head table were the ghost director, a man
Victoria didn’t recognize and Dawson. Their vote counted the
most. Observing every spoonful from the shadows as she chatted with
the head waitress, she waited to see if they would finish all of it.
The bowls were scraped clean.
    The same thing
happened with the pasta bowl and the towering parfait. The guests
were stuffed by the end of the meal. Searching for Abby who was
chatting with some of the people, she called her over. She still
carried the bland look on her face, but came over all the same.
Victoria