Dead Man Docking - Mary Daheim [88]
“All those plants would perk up the sponges,” CeeCee said. “I mean, sponges and corks are really swell and all that, but aren’t they mostly brown? You need some green.”
“I do at that,” Horace said, and sighed heavily.
Rick reentered the dining room. “Nothing urgent,” he asserted, sitting down at the table. “By the way, this lamb is delicious.”
“It’s from New Zealand,” Erma said. “I had it flown in by New Zealand Airlines.”
“You should’ve had duck,” CeeCee said. “Then it could have flown in by itself.” She let out a high-pitched giggle.
Judith didn’t dare look at Renie. A surreptitious glance around the table caught Horace appearing as if he were on the verge of an anxiety attack; Erma in very high dudgeon; CeeCee apparently oblivious to everything except the mint jelly she was rolling around on her tongue; Ambrose with his head down in deep gloom; and even a silent Rick and Rhoda, who, for once, seemed to be at a loss for words.
But CeeCee certainly wasn’t. Seated next to Ambrose, she poked his arm. “You aren’t eating. What’s up with that?”
“I’m a vegetarian,” Ambrose replied, pulling away from his dinner companion. “I only eat fish and other seafood.”
“Huh.” CeeCee frowned at the secretary. “You don’t feel sorry for the poor lobster who gave up his life for your soup? You didn’t wince when you thought about him boiling away in a big old pot?”
“That’s different,” Ambrose mumbled.
Renie held up her fork from which dangled an asparagus spear. “How do you know that this little guy isn’t screaming in pain? Or,” she continued, pointing to Horace’s wineglass, “those grapes weren’t groaning in agony while they were being stomped?”
Ambrose shuddered. “I don’t want to think about it. All living things are precious.”
“Really?” Renie looked pugnacious. “Then why don’t I see anybody lamenting over the corpses that are being stacked up like cordwood around here?”
Erma sucked in her breath. “Mrs. Jones! That’s very crude!”
“It’s very true,” Renie shot back. “The only person who seems affected by the recent tragedies is Connie Cruz. You act as if human beings are as disposable as paper towels.”
Although Judith agreed with Renie, she motioned for her cousin to shut up. But Erma had hauled herself to her feet and was wagging a pudgy finger.
“You are incredibly ill-mannered!” Erma bellowed. “You and that other person are no longer welcome in this house! Get out!”
“Gladly.” Renie had also stood up. Whether by accident or by design, the damask tablecloth got caught on the big face of her wristwatch. Her own place setting, along with Horace’s wineglass and Rhoda’s silverware, crashed to the floor.
Erma let out a piercing yelp. Renie yanked the damask cloth away from her watch, tearing a small hole in the fine fabric. “Cheap crap,” she said with a sneer. “I hope that’s disposable.”
Renie stomped out of the dining room, leaving Judith no choice but to follow. Erma shouted invective after both cousins, but didn’t attempt to follow them.
“Coz,” Judith said, aghast, “you shouldn’t have done that! Erma will send you a bill for damages.”
“Screw her,” Renie snapped, picking up her handbag in the foyer. “You knew from the moment we met her that I’d do something outrageous. She’s exactly the kind of wretched, selfish person who drives me wild.”
“Me, too,” Judith agreed, “but I don’t make scenes.”
“Try it sometime,” Renie said with a wicked grin. “It feels great. I’ll use my cell phone to call us a taxi.”
Renie was dialing when Chevy appeared in the foyer. “Can I give you a standing ovation?” she asked Renie.
“I wasn’t acting,” Renie replied. “I don’t see how you can put up with that old bat for five minutes.”
“Acting is all about discipline,” Chevy explained, ignoring Erma’s shouts for help.
“You deserve an Academy Award or a Tony or some damned thing,” Renie declared. “Keep in touch. If Erma has a fit and falls in it, I want to be the first to know.”
Judith and Renie waited outside for the taxi. Neither of their new suit jackets could ward off the fog’s damp chill. Almost five minutes passed before