A Year on Ladybug Farm - Donna Ball [14]
In the study, Cici’s office furniture had been pushed against the wall and covered by floor-to-ceiling drapes of theatrical scrim, which were backlit by red and green up-lights and draped with swags of evergreen tied with elaborate red bows and clusters of sparkly ornaments. In the center of the room was a twelve foot evergreen decorated in gold balls and red and green lights. Surrounding it, Cici had built a circular serving table that was draped in gold lamé and lit by dozens of gold candles on mirrors. Behind the table another bartender prepared pomegranate margaritas while guests plucked shrimp from the Christmas-tree-shaped tower decorated with red pepper ornaments, and filled their gold-colored hors d’oeuvres plates with everything from homemade cheese straws to olives wrapped in prosciutto.
The dining room buffet was an L-shaped spectacle of white satin, silver ornaments, and red glass. Rows upon rows of glittering white lights were tucked into nests of greenery and draped through folds of satin, while red glass ball ornaments reflected the sparkle and clusters of red roses accented each serving dish. The beef Wellington was a work of art with its crispy pastry crust and savory spinach filling, complemented by an asparagus casserole for which Bridget would never reveal the recipe. The flaky rolls had been three days in the making. Mushrooms had been stuffed and frozen a week in advance. Crispy crab cakes on a heated platter surrounded a silver bowl of remoulade sauce. New potatoes had been tossed with a hot tomato vinaigrette mere moments before serving, and were kept warm with a chafing dish. Vegetarian selections included a broccoli quiche, tomato tarts with black olives, and a six-layer cheese, red pepper, and pesto torte. The dessert buffet featured a Christmas tree decorated with sugared fruit and surrounded by a colorful wreath of decorated cookies—all lovingly handmade of course—bowls of truffles and dipping chocolate, three different layer cakes, and the pièce de resistance—individual custard cups, trimmed in silver paper and filled with peppermint cream.
Bridget presided over the dining room like a proud mother at a virtuoso’s concert—thrilled and excited at its success, but always a little nervous as well. When Cici stood beside her she squeezed her arm happily. “Everyone’s having a good time, aren’t they? Can you believe we pulled this off on top of everything else? Did you try the crab cakes? They’re not getting soggy, are they?”
“Oh my God, you outdid yourself. I tried everything and it is all out of this world. They’re going to have to cut me out of this dress. Can you believe we pulled this off on top of everything else?”
Lindsay edged up to them through the crowd at the buffet table, a dessert plate in her hand. “Did you taste the tomato tarts?” she inquired, popping a sugarcoated grape into her mouth. “And I don’t even like tomatoes! Bridget you are a genius. God, I love our parties, don’t you?” She sighed and looked around happily. “Can you believe we pulled this off again this year on top of everything else?”
The “everything else” had, of course, been selling three houses, holding two giant yard sales and an eBay auction, traveling back and forth to Virginia four times, drawing up contracts, sorting and packing and trying to prepare, both physically and emotionally, for a move that would change everything about their lives. In the midst of it all, Christmas had come, and with it, their last chance to say good-bye.
Bridget’s house had sold first, and everything she owned was currently packed away in cartons awaiting her temporary move to a furnished apartment on January first. Lindsay’s contract called for her to complete the school year, which, with saved vacation and sick time, meant that the earliest she would be able to leave was the last week of March. The buyers of her house had children in school and did not want to make the move until the end of the school year, either, so it would all work out. Cici’s buyers