was.
When Billy arrived at the tent, he was met by his towering yellow partner in crime—Big Bird. The beak came off, revealing Chuck.
“We’re really in the dog house, aren’t we, eh?” he said with a grin.
“Tell me about it,” Billy said, itching his body like he had a bad case of poison ivy.
“You make any good new memories last night?” Chuck asked, his grin turning sly.
“Just re-living bad ones,” Billy popped Chuck’s enthusiasm balloon.
Under the tent, cafeteria-style tables were waiting for the children, a triangular birthday hat marking each place. The rest of the essentials were all there—cups, plates, napkins, and candles—all had an animal theme.
As noon approached, boatloads of children began arriving with their pageant parents. Many attempted to dress in theme. Some wore cowboy hats, some wore safari outfits, while others wore science lab coats. It appeared the natural science theme had caused confusion. Like high school, they mingled in cliques. As did the parents.
The big adult topic of discussion was the execution of the Iranian hostages, but it didn’t seem to dampen anyone’s mood. Chuck began to point out the rich and the richer to Billy. He told Billy of one party last summer where the family set up amusement rides, including a roller coaster in their backyard. Another hired a famous pop star to perform.
The highlight of the party was a live animal show, where professionals from the nature center showed off unique birds, fuzzy mammals, and scaly reptiles. Carolyn almost started a riot when, upon viewing a particularly unattractive lizard, she shouted, “Dragon!” Like shouting fire in a theater, the four-year-olds scattered in panic. Eventually order was restored, and the live animal show continued for about an hour. A scavenger hunt killed another hour.
The party culminated with a barbecue under the big tent. The princess—wearing what she termed her “birthday dress” that she wore with sneakers and a fashionable bandage on her temple—then energetically opened an endless stream of gifts.
Billy momentarily looked away from the sadistic shredding of wrapping paper and noticed an over-dressed, leggy brunette prancing toward the party like she paid for it. Actually, she did. The long curls bouncing off her shoulders, along with her breezy attitude, made her seem younger than her thirty-five years. Her Manhattan-chic look included a stylish skirt, heels, and expensive Louis Vuitton handbag. Behind her, Dana dragged a shiny red bicycle with a large ribbon on it.
Billy met her halfway. She greeted him with, “There’s nothing hotter than a man in an Elmo costume.”
“Thanks for finding me a place I could afford,” he shot back with a playful grin.
“When Ain’t No Senator’s Daughter publishes, then this place will be referred to as your guest house,” Dana replied with her trademark enthusiasm. “And when the movie rights sell, then you’ll own a castle like that woman who wrote Harry Potter!”
“I thought the writer was supposed to be the out there one and the agent was the realist with the business head?”
“Why lower expectations? It’s going to be huge. A couple of publishers have already read it. They loved it.”
“Is it true you’ve never sold a book?”
“Don’t listen to the haters, Billy, it only takes one.”
“So that’s a no?”
“I never represented you before. No matter how good of an agent I am, I needed talent to sell. Now I got the talent.”
An off-key chorus of “Happy Birthday” in the distance directed Billy’s attention back toward the party. Beth stood to the side and took pictures of Carolyn, who hammed it up for the camera.
“So how are you and Beth getting along?” Dana asked, holding back a smile as if it were a sneeze.
“How could anyone not get along with Beth? She’s so easygoing. It’s been nothing but a pleasure,” he deadpanned.
“What do you expect from twins? We’re both twenty-five, you
When Billy arrived at the tent, he was met by his towering yellow partner in crime—Big Bird. The beak came off, revealing Chuck.
“We’re really in the dog house, aren’t we, eh?” he said with a grin.
“Tell me about it,” Billy said, itching his body like he had a bad case of poison ivy.
“You make any good new memories last night?” Chuck asked, his grin turning sly.
“Just re-living bad ones,” Billy popped Chuck’s enthusiasm balloon.
Under the tent, cafeteria-style tables were waiting for the children, a triangular birthday hat marking each place. The rest of the essentials were all there—cups, plates, napkins, and candles—all had an animal theme.
As noon approached, boatloads of children began arriving with their pageant parents. Many attempted to dress in theme. Some wore cowboy hats, some wore safari outfits, while others wore science lab coats. It appeared the natural science theme had caused confusion. Like high school, they mingled in cliques. As did the parents.
The big adult topic of discussion was the execution of the Iranian hostages, but it didn’t seem to dampen anyone’s mood. Chuck began to point out the rich and the richer to Billy. He told Billy of one party last summer where the family set up amusement rides, including a roller coaster in their backyard. Another hired a famous pop star to perform.
The highlight of the party was a live animal show, where professionals from the nature center showed off unique birds, fuzzy mammals, and scaly reptiles. Carolyn almost started a riot when, upon viewing a particularly unattractive lizard, she shouted, “Dragon!” Like shouting fire in a theater, the four-year-olds scattered in panic. Eventually order was restored, and the live animal show continued for about an hour. A scavenger hunt killed another hour.
The party culminated with a barbecue under the big tent. The princess—wearing what she termed her “birthday dress” that she wore with sneakers and a fashionable bandage on her temple—then energetically opened an endless stream of gifts.
Billy momentarily looked away from the sadistic shredding of wrapping paper and noticed an over-dressed, leggy brunette prancing toward the party like she paid for it. Actually, she did. The long curls bouncing off her shoulders, along with her breezy attitude, made her seem younger than her thirty-five years. Her Manhattan-chic look included a stylish skirt, heels, and expensive Louis Vuitton handbag. Behind her, Dana dragged a shiny red bicycle with a large ribbon on it.
Billy met her halfway. She greeted him with, “There’s nothing hotter than a man in an Elmo costume.”
“Thanks for finding me a place I could afford,” he shot back with a playful grin.
“When Ain’t No Senator’s Daughter publishes, then this place will be referred to as your guest house,” Dana replied with her trademark enthusiasm. “And when the movie rights sell, then you’ll own a castle like that woman who wrote Harry Potter!”
“I thought the writer was supposed to be the out there one and the agent was the realist with the business head?”
“Why lower expectations? It’s going to be huge. A couple of publishers have already read it. They loved it.”
“Is it true you’ve never sold a book?”
“Don’t listen to the haters, Billy, it only takes one.”
“So that’s a no?”
“I never represented you before. No matter how good of an agent I am, I needed talent to sell. Now I got the talent.”
An off-key chorus of “Happy Birthday” in the distance directed Billy’s attention back toward the party. Beth stood to the side and took pictures of Carolyn, who hammed it up for the camera.
“So how are you and Beth getting along?” Dana asked, holding back a smile as if it were a sneeze.
“How could anyone not get along with Beth? She’s so easygoing. It’s been nothing but a pleasure,” he deadpanned.
“What do you expect from twins? We’re both twenty-five, you
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