RETURN TO SWAN LAKE

a novel by Gary Canup

Chapter 7

Mother sat at her big antique desk in her plush home office, penning a letter. Expensive leather-bound volumes were neatly arranged in the bookcase behind her; artificial ferns hung here and there. A large window overlooked the rear grounds which were wooded and fastidiously tended. Thanks to the skill of cosmetic surgeons and to the miracle of costly medical treatments, Mother was equally well-tended, appearing years younger than her actual age of forty-one. She set down her plumed pen and pressed a button on her intercom. "Audrey?"

"Yes, Mrs. Summers?"

"Would you come in here, please? I'd like to go over the final guest list for Saturday night's party."

"Yes, ma'am."

Her personal secretary entered the room and seated herself in the comfortable chair in front of Mother's desk.

"Invitations have been sent to all of Jan's aunts and uncles?" Mother asked.

"Yes, Mrs. Summers."

"And to the director of the local adult ballet, as well as to the director of the local children's ballet?"

"To them as well, yes."

"And of course to Madame Jenkins?"

"Of course."

"How many have responded so far?"

"All of them, Mrs. Summers."

"Excellent. And how many are coming?"

"All but two couples. The Goesslings have to be in Europe this weekend. And the Schwambergers can't make it because Mrs. Schwamberger fell ill and had to be hospitalized."

"Oh, dear, I'm sorry to hear that. What's wrong with her?"

"I don't know, they didn't go into details."

"I truly do hate to hear that, Audrey. They've both been such loyal supporters of Jan's career over the years. Find out where she's been hospitalized, and send her an appropriate card and a bouquet of flowers. Include a personal note, saying we look forward to seeing her at next year's party."

"I'll do that, Mrs. Summers."

"Many of our guests will be coming in from out of town, Audrey, so we'll have to make arrangements for their hotel accommodations and for limousine service from the airport and hotel."

"Will any of your guests be staying here?"

"A few of them. The most influential ones."

"Excuse me, Mrs. Summers, but wouldn't that be a blatant slight to the less influential guests?"

"Good point, Audrey. I want the more important ones to feel favored without at the same time alienating the good graces of the others. We'll have to work out a discreet arrangement. Give the matter some thought, Audrey, and let me know of your recommendations."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I want everything to be just right for the party. My little girl doesn't turn thirteen every day, you know."

"Indeed," Audrey said.

Mother pondered awhile, fidgeting with her plumed pen. "I guess that's all for now, Audrey. We can expect to see you and your husband there, I hope."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, Mrs. Summers."

"The place should be rife with contacts for your own ballet career."

"The thought did cross my mind."

"Excellent. That's wonderful. We'll look forward to seeing the both of you. I'll let you get back to your regular work now."

Audrey nodded and left the room.

Mother glanced at her computer monitor, then pressed another button on her intercom. "Michael?"

The communication brought a voice from the kitchen.

"Yes, Madame Summers?"

"I'm about to put the finishing touches on the menu for Jan's birthday party Saturday night. Will you stand by and be ready to receive it in a few minutes?"

"As you wish, Madame," the chef said.

She typed into the computer information she had gathered regarding the culinary likes and dislikes of her various guests. Moreover, many of her guests were advanced in years and subject to restrictive diets so she typed these restrictions into the computer which in the blink of an eye sorted through all the information and arrived at her optimum menu. Next she called forth her wine list and made a note of which labels and vintages Michael would have to special order. It took her maybe fifteen minutes to settle all the details. After double-checking her decisions, she hit the key that sent the completed menu and wine list down to Michael's terminal in the kitchen.

She shut down the computer, left her office and went upstairs to the studio.

"How is it coming, boys?"

A crew of electricians was installing a series of spotlights on the wall about midway between the ceiling and the top of the studio mirror. The head electrician turned to her. "It's coming along without a hitch, ma'am," he reported.

"Will the spotlights be ready for Saturday night?"

"No doubt about it," he assured her.

"Excellent," Jan's mother said. "Excellent."