“Smoking,” Renie responded through a thin haze.
“You don’t smoke! You haven’t smoked since we went to
Europe where we
“Well, I’m smoking now.” Renie sounded unnaturally
calm. She exhaled a large blue puff.
Judith was flabbergasted. She herself had quit smoking
almost ten year earlier, and had never quite gotten over her
desire to start again. Renie, however, was another matter:
She had been what Judith called a party smoker, enjoying
cigarettes only when accompanied by reasonable amounts
of adult beverages and loud decibels of rock ’n roll.
But there was no time to discuss her cousin’s newly acquired vice. “I could use some help with these plates,” Judith
said, picking up two of them.
“Can’t.” Renie puffed some more. “It’d ruin my image.”
“Very funny,” Judith said, heading for the dining room.
“Hold the plates steady. I don’t want to screw up the
presentation.”
“I’m not kidding,” Renie called after her. “I can’t help you.”
Judith stopped at the door and turned to look at her
cousin. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“I’m serious.” Renie had put on what Judith referred to as
her cousin’s boardroom face. “I can’t be a waitress one
minute and a graphic designer the next. Those people out
there would think I was nuts.”
For the first time, Judith had a glimpse of Serena Grover
Jones, graphics specialist to the stars. Or whatever. While
she’d watched Renie at work in her basement office, she’d
never actually seen her deal with clients. Judith wasn’t sure
she liked her cousin in this other guise.
“Fine,” said Judith, annoyed. “I’ll manage without you.”
The OTIOSE executives were clustered in little groups of
twos and threes. Judith tried to place them, but recognized
only Nadia, who was chatting with a self-possessed AfricanAmerican man, and Margo, who had been cornered by a
wildly gesticulating male whose thinning fair hair stood up
in several places on his very round head.
On the third and fourth trips, Judith managed to carry
four plates at a time. The conferees still seemed absorbed in
their various conversations. Not wanting the crepes to get
cold, Judith picked up a spoon and tapped a water glass.
“Luncheon is served,” she announced.
No one paid any attention. Judith tapped the glass again
and raised her voice. Nothing happened. Judith hesitated.
Then, at precisely twelve-thirty, Nadia Weiss glanced at
her big watch. “Lunch!” she bellowed.
A stampede of conservatively dressed animals headed for
the table. Judith back-pedaled out of the way just before a
very large man with a completely bald head and a wizened
