Perfect Sax Read Free Page B

their budget the ladies wished to spend on decorating the Tager Auditorium’s grand foyer, where the dinner was to be served. Dilly and Zenya were both savvy to the bottom line. While they wanted to put on a spectacular party, they also wanted to raise the most money for the Woodburn. They asked what we could do that would cut down on costs but make the biggest splash.
    We had been sitting in my office, sipping white wine and going over the numbers again. “Can you imagine,” I wondered aloud, “if everyone at the ball were to dress up in our color scheme? Hundreds of gowns in black or white, with accents here and there of red?”
    Dilly and Zenya glommed on to the idea like the purebred shoppers they were.
    “I love it,” Dilly said, turning to Zenya.
    “Everyone wears black, anyway,” Zenya responded. “The men are no problem. Black tie. White shirt. Tux. They’re done.”
    “Who doesn’t have a black gown?” Dilly added.
    “Who doesn’t have two or three?” Zenya asked. “Not to mention something white. Or they could wear a black-and-white print. Or something red. I love this.”
    Dilly giggled and sipped her Chardonnay. “Oh, please. Who are we kidding? We all buy something new for the ball, anyway. But I just love telling everyone what they must go out and buy.”
    It was settled just like that. Dilly looked at her watch and shrieked. “Sorry. I have to run.”
    Zenya, at least fifteen years younger than her cochair, but no less busy, checked her own jeweled wrist and gasped. “Me, too. Let’s meet on Tuesday at ten. Will that be all right, Madeline?”
    I nodded as the women rushed out. These ladies were always on the go, their Palm Pilots filled with appointments. Dilly had a session with her Pilates trainer across town, and Zenya was running late to meet the manicurist, who was making a house call, so Zenya’s second grader’s nails could be changed to a new shade of pink. I try very hard not to judge. Very, very hard.
    The ball’s elegant black-and-white dress code had actually been one of the easier decisions. Dilly had by that time managed to achieve a stranglehold on the rest of the committee. By pairing with a sweet-natured yes-girl like Zenya, she was making all the power decisions. It was they who had approved the gourmet black-and-white menu, daring to move beyond traditional banquet bland. And I had to admiretheir resolve to make this ball distinctive, both in food and in appearance. Sometimes, clients don’t really get it. But these two did.
    As I stood in the grand foyer, two hours into their fabulous Jazz Ball, I noticed Dilly Swinden a short distance away. She was standing with her husband; he in a black Armani dinner jacket, with snow-white shirt and a red bow tie; she in a simple, floor-length strapless dress covered in jet-black beads. Her delicate neck was circled in the largest rubies I’d ever seen. The presence of so many couples dressed all in black and white made for a stunning effect, lending the party a more artistic ambience than any amount of swag draping or flower arrangements alone might have done.
    Scattered in the crowd, twenty-five young Woodburn kids had volunteered to work at the event. These children left their instruments at home for the evening and were dressed as turn-of-the-century paperboys, wearing black caps with a white sack over one shoulder filled with “newspapers.” Guests could purchase a “paper” for twenty-five dollars and take their chance at winning a great prize. The auction ladies had solicited donations from vendors all over the city and each of the “newspapers” in the sacks represented a donated item. One might find their newspaper raffle item was a certificate for a dinner for two at Patina Restaurant, a free eye exam by Dr. Stuart Milliken, or a seven-day Mexican cruise, the grand prize.
    The party had been in full swing for more than two hours and I noted that most of our paperboys had done their jobs well. Their sacks were