Laura Childs: Dragonwell Dead

“We’re not sardines,” muttered Drayton.

“We just need to make things fit ,” insisted Delaine. “The guests that are coming tonight have extremely high expectations. We’re talking about society people. The upper crust.”

“You know what the upper crust really is?” laughed Drayton. “A lot of crumbs held together by dough.”

“Love it,” chortled Haley. She elbowed Theodosia. “Isn’t Drayton a card.”

“He’s a hoot,” agreed Theodosia as she began arranging tiny lobster salad sandwiches on a footed glass dish.

But Delaine was not one bit amused. “You people,” she said, her long pink earrings swaying as she spoke, “could show a little more respect for our donors!”

“Good heavens,” exclaimed Drayton, as Charlie struggled toward their table, hauling an aluminum cooler. “You should have waited and let me help with that. Besides getting my orchid out of Theo’s Jeep, I was planning on making a couple more trips.”

“No big deal,” said Charlie. “I’m just happy to be here.”

“We’re delighted to have you,” said Theodosia. She was thrilled that Drayton now seemed to view Charlie as a real asset to their team. “And you look so cute, too.” Haley had taken Charlie across the alley and outfitted her in a black silk T-shirt, long gauzy skirt, and cute tie belt.

“Thanks to my stylist here,” laughed Charlie. While she wasn’t wearing formal attire, she certainly looked dressy enough.

“You know the program?” Haley asked her. “Drayton explained it to you on the way over?”

“Pretty much,” said Charlie. “He wants me to be in charge of ice angels tonight.”

“Making them or serving them?” asked Haley.

“Both, I think,” responded Charlie.

“So what flavor of gelato did he finally settle on?” asked Haley, kicking the cooler with her toe. “And what kind of tea?”

“You two are talking about me like I’m not here,” said Drayton.

“Get over it,” quipped Haley.

“It’s a really good combo,” said Charlie. “Lemon gelato topped with jasmine tea. The exact recipe being two small scoops of gelato and about a quarter cup of tea.”

Haley dug around under the table. “You’re using these little clear plastic glasses?” she asked, pulling out a package.

Drayton made a face. “It just isn’t possible to use nice glassware.”

“Then what about spoons?” asked Haley, always a stickler for order and planning.

“We’re not using spoons,” said Drayton. “Charlie’s just going to pop colored straws into the glasses so people can walk around sipping them.”

“Kind of like snow cones,” said Haley. “Outdoorsy and fun.”

“Well, not exactly,” said Drayton. “Our ice angels are far more elegant.”

Just when Theodosia was about to give up hope, Parker Scully finally showed up. He struggled in, muscling a large cardboard box that clanked noisily.

“What have you got in there?” Haley asked him.

Parker dropped the box on his table with a thud, then proceeded to pull out liquor bottles and arrange them on his table. “Rum, curaçao, and grenadine,” he told her.

“I thought grenadine was a soldier,” said Haley.

“You’re thinking of a grenadier,” laughed Parker. “Grenadine is a liqueur.”

“Don’t you think it’s strange that your first name is the same as my last name?” asked Haley.

“Parker was my mother’s maiden name.”

“Whoa. Maybe we’re related.”

Parker gazed at her deadpan. “Heaven help me.”

“Do you need help?” Theodosia asked him.

“Already got some,” said Parker. “I ran into your assistant in the parking lot. She’s giving me a hand.”

The words weren’t out of Parker’s mouth when Charlie showed up hefting another cardboard box.

“Now whatcha got?” asked Haley.

“Glasses, swizzle sticks, stuff like that,” said Parker, taking the box from Charlie.

“You need ice?” asked Haley.

“On its way,” said Parker. “I made arrangements with the same vendor that delivers ice to my restaurant.”

“Why didn’t we think of that?” said Haley.

“Good question,” replied Theodosia. “Hey, where did Drayton dash off to?”

“He’s registering his orchid,” said Charlie. “See?” She pointed across the patio to a small registration table where Drayton was bent over, scribbling away.

“This oughta be good,” smiled Haley. “Suffice it to say, Drayton’s entry is a bit nontraditional.”

Twenty minutes later a string quartet struck their first notes and Orchid Lights was officially under way. White twinkle lights glowed in the palmetto trees, flickering candles floated in the reflecting pool, and guests in elegant evening attire strolled from table to orchid-laden table, admiring the gorgeous plants on view. Overhead, the Charleston sky was a piece of dark blue denim embedded with stars.

“Everything looks so gorgeous and romantic,” commented Haley, pulling her butter-yellow pashmina closer around her shoulders.

“Perfect,” murmured Theodosia. What had seemed destined for disaster thirty minutes earlier had suddenly morphed into absolute elegance. Cream-colored tapers in a brass candelabra lit their tea table. Serving trays filled with lobster salad, cucumber cream cheese, and chicken chutney tea sandwiches looked most enticing. Haley’s three-tiered truffle trays were now strewn with edible flowers. To save space, they’d moved Charlie and the ice angel setup over to Parker Scully’s table. That way guests could have their choice of either the alcoholic Black Orchid cocktail or Drayton’s non-alcoholic but still delicious tea and gelato mixture.

Haley nudged Theodosia. “Here comes Drayton. Bet he shook things up with that bell jar and moss arrangement.”

Drayton’s heels hit the flagstones like castanets as he approached.

“You’re not going to believe this,” he began, eyes rolling upward.

“What now?” asked Haley.

“Harlan Noble is protesting my entry.”

“Because . . . why?” asked Theodosia.

“He says it’s completely nontraditional.”

“Hey, that’s what I just said,” said Haley, happily.

“But your entry is still an orchid,” reasoned Theodosia. “Completely within the boundaries. And this is an amateur orchid show at the Heritage Society. Good heavens, it’s not as though you broke convention with an American Orchid Society–sanctioned show or some sort of international orchid event.”

Drayton grabbed Theodosia by the hand and pulled her along. “Then kindly come and tell that to the people at the registration table!”

It was almost fun, Theodosia decided. All she had to do was mention Timothy Neville’s name and she had the instant ability to strike fear in the hearts of almost every volunteer. Obviously, the Orchid Society members had heard about Timothy’s famously hot temper and decided it wasn’t worth the effort to keep Drayton out of the judging. In fact, they probably figured it was the lesser of two evils. Harlan Noble might glower and fuss, but Timothy would completely blow his cork.

So Drayton’s orchid was in. Thank goodness!

And Drayton was breathing easier now, acting almost ebullient.

“Let’s go inside and check out the silent auction,” he said to Theodosia. “See how that’s going.”

“Only for a couple minutes,” replied Theodosia. “We don’t want to leave Haley and Charlie short-handed.”

“They’ll be fine,” expounded Drayton, smiling broadly now, waving to friends and Heritage Society regulars that they passed.

“Two minutes,” Theodosia told him as they made their way down the wood-paneled corridor to what the Heritage Society called the gallery room.