Chapter 15: Don't Lose Your Appetite

“How was the shopping trip, honey?” Mr. Hallett asked his wife that evening.

“It was—it was pretty good,” said Mrs. Hallett.  “Mrs. Schlegel bought three dresses for Carol.  I picked out this sweater for myself.”

“Lovely,” said Mr. Hallett, as his wife held it up.  “That’ll look good on you.  Yellow’s your color.”

“It reminds me of the one I wore on our honeymoon,” said Mrs. Hallett, turning it around.

“Say, that’s right!” said Mr. Hallett.  “I remember it now!  We went to that restaurant—what was it called?”

“McGranahan’s.”

“Yes, that’s it—McGranahan’s. You wore that sweater, and I—”

This touching recollection was interrupted by Drew, who stuck his head in at that moment.  “Mom, Dad?” he said.  “Why don’t we head down to dinner?”

Mr. Hallett checked his watch.  “We’ve still got thirteen—”

“Renee’s starving,” said Drew.  “They might have put some stuff out already.  Let’s go.”  He closed the door, not waiting for an answer.

Mr. Hallett looked at his wife.  “Should we?” he mouthed.

Mrs. Hallett nodded.  “They might have a reason,” she mouthed back.  Mr. Hallett had no idea what she mouthed, but he nodded, and out they went.

When they arrived in the dining room, all that was out was the silverware (fork, knife and spoon), water glasses (empty), plates, and napkins.  No other guests had come in yet, and the Halletts quickly took their seats.  Mr. Hallett picked up his fork and examined it.

“Birks Silverware,” he said to himself.

“A fine staple of old Montreal!” exclaimed Bourdon, wandering in.  “How are you all doing?  I haven’t seen you all day!”

“Oh, we’re fine, thank you,” said Mr. Hallett.  “I haven’t seen you all day, either.”

“I’ve been practicing out on the fairways,” said Bourdon.  “Gotta keep that golf game in top form.  Top form, mind you.  Golf always goes best when you’re in top form.”

“He sounds a little too happy,” Carol whispered to her sister, who nodded.  At that moment, Philip entered.

“Hey, where’s the chow?” he asked.

“It’ll be along; it’ll be along,” said Bourdon, yanking out his chair and sitting down.  “Ahh, I can’t wait to see what the cook’s come up with tonight.  I wonder where Blaine is?”

“If you’re talking about Dad, he’ll be along in a minute,” said Hannah, escorted in by Peter.  Neither of them looked very cheerful, for some reason.  They sat down in glum silence.

Edward gave Renee a look.  She stared back at him until she finally figured out what he meant.  Giving a slight nod, she slid over to the seat next to Hannah.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

Hannah gave her young friend a wry smile.  “Nothing.”

Renee smiled back.  “Something must be the matter,” she said.

“Well, if you must know, Father completely rejected Peter’s idea today.”

“What idea?” asked Renee.

Peter, overhearing, answered.  “I asked Mr. Blaine if he’d be interested in letting my company produce what he’s working on.  He refused, even when I promised my company would pay him over 120 percent of what he’ll make elsewhere.  It was very discouraging.”

“Just what is your father working on, anyway?” asked Bourdon.

Hannah shrugged.  “He won’t say.  I don’t think he trusts me,” she pouted.

Wait until your father gets in here, Drew thought to himself.  Then make your pitch for the Academy Award.

“Has the dinner been served yet?” asked Mrs. Schlegel, wandering in.  “Oh, hello, Carol.  I’m surprised you’re not wearing one of those dresses we bought today.”

“We haven’t had time to take the tags off,” said Mrs. Hallett.

“That’s a good excuse,” said Mrs. Schlegel.  “Once, Max—he’ll be along in a minute—and I were at a party, and a Bavarian duchess came in wearing a new dress.  It looked lovely, unless you looked closely at the train.”

“There was a pricetag on it?” Mrs. Hallett asked.

“Not a pricetag.  A pin, but it had a large, purple head,” said Mrs. Schlegel.  “The unsightly thing!  I wasted no time in pointing it out.  That kept her out of the party the rest of the night.”

“Ouch!  Not so fast!” came an exclamation from the doorway.  Bourdon rolled his eyes.

“Here comes Hodgson.”

“What did you do before you became a butler, Godfrey?  Because, the way you race my wheelchair around, I suspect it had something to do with auto racing.”

“Nonsense!” said Godfrey.  “I was an attendant.”

“Where?” snapped Hodgson.  “Daytona?”

“The Los Angeles County Morgue,” said Godfrey.  “Please be seated, Mr. Hodgson.”  He rolled the old man’s chair up to the table and backed up.

The Blaines entered at that moment, followed by Schlegel, in the midst of a conversation with Mr. Blaine.  “—should see Bavaria,” said Schlegel.  “It’s beautiful in the spring.  The roses will be all over the fence; red, like the ones you have in the center of the—oh, those aren’t roses!”

“Not those,” said Mr. Blaine.  “Those are chrysanthemums.  I had roses set up until I remembered that Peter was allergic.  I’d love to see them in Bavaria, though.  Ah, John!  Susan!  How are you all doing?”

“Very well, thank you,” said Mr. Hallett, shaking hands with his host.

“Good, good!” said Mr. Blaine.  “I think we’ll have to look into that golf course more carefully tomorrow.  I’ve got some old property records I want you to look through.”

“Sure,” said Mr. Hallett.  “Anytime.”

“Not right away,” said Mr. Blaine.  “You’re my guest, after all, and the last thing I’d want to do is overwork you.  Let’s concentrate on the food right now.  You’re going to like the dinner this evening.  It’s roast beef with potatoes, gravy, stewed vegetables, and—”

As Mr. Blaine went on with the description, a servant came out with a pitcher full of ice water.  He went around to Mr. Blaine’s place, filled his, and worked his way clockwise around the table from there.

Bourdon promptly drained his glass.  “I was thirsty,” he explained.

Drew eyed Mr. Hallett’s glass warily, then picked it up.  “Oops,” he said, spilling a little on his plate.  “It’s on the right, not the left.  I got mixed up.  Don’t worry, I didn’t drink any of it.”

“What—oh, that’s alright,” said Mr. Hallett.  “I’m glad you reminded me, or I would have grabbed your glass, Sally.”

Drew picked up his napkin and pretended to wipe the plate off, with his right hand.  Instead, with his left hand, he pulled out a dropper.  He quickly filled it with some of the water from his plate.

Then, reaching into a pocket, he pulled out a small bugbox.  It was one of those little, clear boxes with a magnifying glass at the top, normally used to study insects.  This one wasn’t empty; a ground beetle stood in the middle of it.

Drew removed the top and squirted in some of the water. Then, he shut the box.  The ground beetle did nothing for a minute, then started for the water, as Drew assumed it would.

Suddenly, it flipped over, dead!

That was just what Drew was afraid of.  Sticking the case back in his pocket, he turned and saw Mr. Hallett about to take a sip!

Quickly, Drew reached into his pocket and pushed a button.

A small, high-pitched whining noise filled the room!  It only lasted five seconds, but its effects were enormous.  Every glass of water shattered.

“What in the world?” said Mr. Blaine.  “Now, what could that possibly be?”

“Oh, no!” said Mr. Hodgson.  “Someone mop this up before I get soaked!  Help!  Emergency!”

“Oh, calm down, Hodgson,” ordered Bourdon.  “The water’s nowhere even close to you.  I can’t understand why the glasses broke, though.”

All the guests murmured nervously as a servant came in to wipe down the table.  “So close,” laughed Mr. Hallett.  “I was just about to take a sip.”

Drew smiled.  “The next glass will be better,” he said.  “I’m sure of it.”