Her Father's House by Belva Plain

had never before been at a party like this.
    â€œIt's so lovely of them to invite Rick and me. Our children go to the same day camp with theirs, that's how we know each other. Of course, we're neighbors, too, or sort of neighbors. Our house used to be the gardener's cottage on that big place across from here.”
    Donald liked her honesty, and her husband Rick's simplicity. He was a lawyer, a sole practitioner here in town.
    â€œOh, Orton and Pratt,” he said when Donald, in answer to his question, had to give the name of his firm. “A lot of pressure must go with a job in a place like that, I imagine.”
    â€œDonald is one of the partners,” Lillian said unnecessarily.
    Why did she have to talk like that? She used to be so tactful. It was on his lips to tell her privately just how unnecessary and even boastful her remark had sounded, but thinking better of it, he drew her instead onto the dance floor and into the flow of the music.
    â€œIt's very smart of them to have two bands,” she said. “The rock band will alternate with this one every half hour or so. In that way everybody will be happy.”
    Her face, turned up toward his, was like some gleaming tropical flower that he knew he had seen somewhere, perhaps in a botanical garden. The music lilted; he was swept into a sense of total harmony. How then was it that in a matter of seconds, this harmony could be broken by a trivial remark?
    Lillian spoke softly. “We go well together, don't we?”
    â€œWe do,” he said.
    â€œYou're happy. You didn't think you would like it here this much.”
    He smiled. “You read my mind, don't you?”
    â€œI do. You mustn't take everything so seriously, Donald. That's your trouble.”
    â€œNo,” he said, “that isn't my trouble.”
    Just then someone tapped him on the shoulder. “I'm cutting in. It's allowed, didn't you hear?” The man was slightly drunk, or not so much drunk as just “feeling good.” “Why should you monopolize the best-looking woman in the room?”
    Because she consented to the man, Donald let her go. Back at the table he watched, and seeing that she was quite safe, rejoined the conversation.
    At the far end of the table, a stout man who was probably younger than he looked was holding forth. “Have you any idea what an affair like this costs? First they get party planners to put all of it together. Twenty thousand for starters for the planners. Then after that, the sky's the limit. Take a look at the flowers on this table. Just the flowers. From Hawaii, five hundred minimum for twenty-five tables, it's safe to say. And that's peanuts. What about the caviar at all the bars? Prime steaks, lobster, anything you want. Did you see the other dance floor, the one they built on top of the pool?” The stout man, whose enthusiasm had begun to border on awe, was not about to wait for an answer. “Walk around. Take a look. Tell you something confidential. Later, when they're sure the kids are in bed, nobody prowling around downstairs, they're having a couple of strippers for entertainment, so don't leave too soon.”
    Now the bands changed places. This one pounded. The accompanying singer bellowed. The dancers went wild. They spun, they collided, their knees and elbows worked like pistons, and they sweated.
    Donald looked for Lillian, and not seeing her pass, got up to search. Still unable to find her in the jostling mob now grown to double its original size, he sat down again. Oh, let her enjoy herself! As soon as she came back in sight, he would get up and join her, although the truth was that he could do without this kind of dancing; he had been rather good at it when he was eighteen, but by twenty-five or so, he had outgrown it. And laughing a little at himself, he watched and waited for her.
    As newcomers poured through the entrance, the tent was constantly losing its cooled air. The young lawyer Rick looked at his