Love & Laughter = Romantic
It was New Year’s Eve Day. I was up early and in full gear, preparing for our party. The theme this year was a Gatsby Party. Oh, what fun this will be. We expected at least fifty friends to start arriving at 8:30, all dressed in black tie and evening gowns. I could hardly wait – so excited.
My hubby was outside parking his seven passenger 1925 Packard on the lawn next to the driveway. Several other friends had arrived with their vintage cars lining the rest of the driveway. A few sprinkler heads were broken; a small price we were willing to pay to make this the setting for a grand entrance to the party.
My handsome husband came in from outside looking ghostly and ghastly. I’d never seen him sick during our marriage. Needless to say, I was alarmed. He announced that he would be fine, reassuring me that he’d be “good as gold” by party time. I kissed his hot cheek and slowly he climbed up the stairs leading back to our bedroom for a “lie down”. Fortunately all the food for dinner had already been prepared. Making the hors d’ oeuvres, along with getting the silver polished, the table set and the flowers arranged, were my domain. My husband loved to cook; I loved to entertain. We were a perfect team and we loved every minute of spending time with family and friends in our home.
“Well, okay then,” I thought to myself. “Now what?” I threw myself into high gear. I placed the linens on the large dining room table, polished two beautiful silver candelabras and placed them on the table, leaving room for my flower arrangement. Next pulled out and placed the silver platters and serving pieces, making sure they were well polished; they went on the buffet table.
What fun this was this going to be. “Ya got nothing on us Mr. Gatsby,” I chuckled. I was still quite concerned about my sweetie. I’d checked on him several times to find him sound asleep.
At this point I wished I’d ordered a flower arrangement but no time for it now. Flower arranging was a job I always enjoyed but it’s messy and time consuming. Finished, everything placed on the table, the mess cleaned up. Whew! Next, made sure the champagne glasses were sparkling. A thought exploded in my mind. Oh no! We forgot to pick up the champagne from the liquor store. Okay! Don’t panic! Stay focused! Duh! Call them, silly. They’ll deliver.” Of course, not only were they more than happy to deliver but totally understood the circumstances. This was my husband’s area of expertise. They were familiar with our parties. They inquired if I needed anything else for the bar. Good grief, I hadn’t thought about that. “Don’t worry,” the owner said, “we’ll be there within the hour, and I’ll check your bar to see what else you might need.” I could hardly believe my good fortune. This had to be one of their busiest times. But as promised, they arrived and began to unpack and place the bottles of champagne in the extra refrigerator in the garage. The owner checked the bar and made a list with the promise that one of his employees would return with what was needed.
I was ever so grateful for this amazing service, as was my sweetie. He had heard the doorbell and the commotion when the special delivery came. I then explained how helpful the liquor store owner was and for me to reassure my husband all was well, which is exactly what he needs to do to GET WELL!
Time was ticking away, and I still had the hors d’ oeuvres to prepare. I missed my teammate, who was always a calming influence, taking everything in his stride. Hours later the last platter was ready to go. Time for a walk through. Doing a double-check. Everything FINISHED and looking good.
I went up to shower and get dressed in my gown. He awoke yet again. “My poor baby, I’m so sorry you’re not better.” “Me too,” was all he could say. I poured a fresh pitcher of water for him, tidied up the covers, closed the door and went downstairs to await our guests who were due at any moment.
We had emptied the entire living room, converting it into a ballroom for dancing. Music playing throughout the party. The ladies dresses were fabulous. One was an incredible, beautiful, beaded flapper gown that had belonged to the guest’s mother. The men, while complaining about having to get dressed up in formal attire, looked so handsome dressed in black tie.
The BIG question was” WHERE WAS MY HUSBAND?” My reply was “You must realize that Gatsby NEVER came to his own parties.” They laughed for a moment until I explained that he was really sick and felt badly he couldn’t join us. They too were concerned.
At the stroke of midnight, a very handsome man dressed in black tie entered our makeshift ballroom to give me a New Year’s kiss and dance with me. Cheers went up and my tears began to appear – tears of joy, just as they are now, years later writing these words, sharing this my favorite romantic story. I hope that you will share your romantic story with us here at Widows Talk.
