It was only a five-minute drive to Ralph’s, but the neighborhood changed significantly for the better. The houses grew larger and were set back on well-manicured lawns. Ralph’s house was situated on a large piece of property, with the driveway curving gracefully up from the street. The drive was lined with azaleas and rhododendrons that in the spring had to be seen to be believed, according to Ralph.
The house itself was a three-story Victorian affair with an octagonal
tower dominating the right front corner. A large porch, defined by complicated gingerbread trim, started at the tower, extended along the front of the house and swept around the left side. Above the double-doored front entrance and resting on the roof of the porch was a circular balcony roofed with a cone that complemented the one on top of the tower.
The scene looked festive enough. Every window in the house blazed with light. Marissa drove around to the left, following Ralph’s instructions. She thought that she was a little late, but there were no other cars.
As she passed the house, she glanced up at the fire escape coming down from the third floor. She’d noticed it one night when Ralph had stopped to pick up his forgotten beeper. He’d explained that the previous owner had made servants’ quarters up there, and the city building department had forced him to add the fire escape. The black iron stood out grotesquely against the white wood.
Marissa parked in front of the garage, whose complicated trim matched that of the house. She knocked on the back door, which was in a modern wing that could not be seen from the front. No one seemed to hear her. Looking through the window, she could see a lot of activity in the kitchen. Deciding against trying the door to see if it was unlocked, she walked around to the front of the house and rang the bell. Ralph opened the door immediately and greeted her with a big hug.
“Thanks for coming over early,” he said, helping her off with her coat.
“Early? I thought I was late.”
“No, not at all,” said Ralph. “The guests aren’t supposed to be here until eight-thirty.” He hung her coat in the hail closet.
Marissa was surprised to see that Ralph was dressed in a tuxedo. Although she’d acknowledged how handsome he looked, she was disconcerted.
“I hope I’m dressed appropriately,” she said. “You didn’t mention that this was a formal affair.”
“You look stunning, as always. I just like an excuse to wear my tux. Come, let me show you around.”
Marissa followed, thinking again that Ralph looked the quintessential physician: strong, sympathetic features and hair graying in just the right places. The two walked into the parlor, Ralph leading the way. The decor was attractive but somewhat sterile. A maid in a black uniform was putting out hors d’oeuvres. “We’ll begin in here. The drinks will be made at the bar in the living room,” Ralph said.
He opened a pair of sliding-panel doors, and they stepped into the living room. A bar was to the left. A young man in a red vest was busily polishing the glassware. Beyond the living room, through an arch, was the formal dining room. Marissa could see that the table was laid for at least a dozen people.
She followed Ralph through the dining room and out into the new wing, which contained a family room and a large modern kitchen. The dinner party was being catered, and three or four people were busy with the preparations.
After being reassured that everything was under control, Ralph led Marissa back to the parlor and explained that he’d asked her to come over early in hopes that she’d act as hostess. A little surprised- after all, she’d only been out with Ralph five or six times-Marissa agreed.
The doorbell rang. The first guests had arrived.
Unfortunately, Marissa had never been good at keeping track of people’s names, but she remembered a Dr. and Mrs. Hayward because of his astonishingly silver hair. Then there was a Dr. and Mrs. Jackson, she sporting a diamond the size of a golf ball. The only other names Marissa recalled afterward were Dr. and Dr. Sandberg, both psychiatrists.