Darling, Not the Curtains!
Brian Armer
Vivienne entered the drawing room holding a love letter, an engagement ring, and the expression of a woman who had rehearsed this entrance in three separate mirrors. She and her friends were young adults with a spectacular talent for making dinner feel like a season finale. Behind her, thunder rolled over the mansion. The forecast had promised clear skies. Apparently, the weather had read the letter too.
“Sebastian.” She let his name fall between them like a priceless vase. “Explain this.”
He rose from the velvet sofa. “Which part?” “The part where you promised your heart to another woman.” “That narrows it considerably.”
Vivienne unfolded the paper with such violence that the chandelier seemed to lean back. “My dearest Celeste,” she read. “Every evening I count the moments until we are together again.” She lowered the letter. “I counted them too, Sebastian. I counted them while you said you were at bridge club.”
“I was at bridge club.” “Then why does Celeste have your heart?” “Celeste is my bridge partner. She has my Tuesday evenings.”
Vivienne blinked. A lesser woman might have paused. Vivienne had already selected the curtain she intended to clutch.
“And the line about your unforgettable night?” “We won the regional pairs final.” “You called her magnificent.” “She bid seven spades.”
From the doorway came a slow, deliberate clap. Their friend Celeste stood beneath the arch in a midnight-blue evening suit. “And I made them.” She removed one glove, finger by finger. It took longer than anybody expected. Nobody interrupted.
Vivienne looked from Celeste to Sebastian. “You brought her here.” “You invited her,” said Sebastian. “For dinner.” “Before I knew.” “Before you knew about the spades?”
“Enough!” Vivienne swept toward the window. The curtains were excellent. She had chosen well. “There is still the ring.” She held it aloft. “The secret engagement. The velvet box hidden in your desk. You cannot explain everything with cards.”
Celeste gave Sebastian a sharp look. “You kept it in the desk?” “It seemed sensible.” “Beside the invoices?” “There was a divider.”
Vivienne pressed a hand to her heart. “You planned this together.” Sebastian stepped closer. “We did.”
The room went still. Somewhere in the mansion, a clock struck nine despite it being half past seven. The clock had always enjoyed an entrance.
“I knew it,” Vivienne whispered. Sebastian reached for her hand. “The ring is for you.” She looked down at the enormous stone. Then back at him. “For me?” “Celeste helped choose it.”
Celeste inspected her remaining glove. “His first choice looked like a door handle.” “It was architectural,” Sebastian said. “It was on clearance,” Celeste replied.
For one glorious second, love conquered everything. Vivienne released the curtain. Sebastian smiled. Even the chandelier appeared to relax.
Then another man entered the drawing room. He had Sebastian's face, Sebastian's hair and a white dinner jacket Sebastian would never have trusted near tomato soup. Vivienne stared.
“Julian,” she breathed.
“My twin brother,” Sebastian said. “Yes,” said Vivienne much too quickly. “Your brother. Of course.”
Julian surveyed the letter, the ring and the curtain, which had not entirely recovered. “Am I early?” Celeste put her glove back on. “For dinner, yes. For trouble, apparently not.”
Vivienne turned toward Sebastian. “There is something I must tell you.” Julian simultaneously said, “There is nothing she needs to tell you.” They looked at each other. Sebastian looked at both of them.
“How interesting,” he said. “Now I'm counting moments.”
Vivienne lifted her chin. “Julian and I have been meeting in secret.” The chandelier braced itself. “For dancing lessons,” she continued. “For our wedding. I wanted to surprise you.”
Julian nodded solemnly. “She has a formidable tango.” “You said I was breathtaking,” Vivienne reminded him. “You stepped on my foot.”
Celeste sat down. “I am going to need dinner.” Sebastian laughed, took Vivienne's hand, and bowed. “Then give me one step of this formidable tango.”
Vivienne placed her hand on his shoulder. She turned. She flourished. She stepped directly onto the hem of the curtain she had so beautifully arranged. The curtain held. Vivienne did not.
She landed in a magnificent seated heap on the thick rug, one hand still raised as though accepting applause. Celeste lifted a finger. “Excellent finish.” Julian nodded. “We hadn't rehearsed that part.”
Sebastian reached into his jacket, produced a closed tin of Zombie, and tossed it onto the cushion beside her.
“Darling, this will protect you from your next betrayal!”