Special people – you get a sneak peek at a little part of my novel (that will probably remain in my computer for the rest of my life). The reason you get a peek is because I wrote about a girl having a particular type of accident and a similar accident happened to me today.

First read this selection and understand that this scene happens in the middle of the story so you will have no background on any of the characters that are well into their development by the time this event occurs. After the excerpt, I’ll tell you about my accident from this afternoon:

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The Board of Trustee’s annual meeting has given Mrs. Thompson a few extra tasks and Mr. Thompson has loaned Shelly to assist his wife for what Mrs. Thompson categorizes as hard work - arranging interviews with eight "must see" candidates for Choate. The Executive Committee has identified eight candidates whom because of their parent's social standing and their family's potential to contribute to the upcoming Triple C (Choate Capitol Campaign) must be interviewed, no matter how dismal their academic scores.

"Shelly, you can arrange yourself in the pantry. There is plenty of room in there and there is a desk and a phone.  Call these people and find a time and date that I can meet with the applicants. For the five who live in the Northeast, let them know I will be in residence here for the next two weeks and they may come here to see me.  As for the California girl, well, see if she will be in the City or Aspen within the month and we can try to arrange a visit, but don't try too hard. This is a favor to one of the other board members, but I am not doing this girl any favors - no matter how much money her parents send." 

Shelly sets about the political task of scheduling an audience with Mrs. Thompson for these socially prominent, yet intellectually challenged potential students.  Audrey Lancaster who lives at home and attends Greenwich Country Day is easy to schedule and eager to take the first available appointment Mrs. Thompson has to offer. In fact, Audrey arrives in New Milford, Connecticut via black Lincoln Town Car chauffer service the very next day after Shelly's telephone call. 

Audrey’s driver pulls into the circular drive and opens the car door closest the enormous country mansion. The impressive 17th century landmark makes virtually no impact on Audrey, as she has seen her share of grand and beautiful homes. She does, however, make a mental note that the house meets her level of expectation and that she will not have to break the news to her mother that the Thompson's have erred in judgment or taste in any manner. 

Audrey assertively uses the knocker on the front door and adjusts her tweed skirt and tries to untwist her tights in a not-so-lady-like movement. Shelly opens the door, "Hello. You must be Audrey. I’m Shelly Lynch who called you. Glad you could make it to New Milford so quickly." Audrey astutely ascertains that Shelly is the hired help, but obviously in a position to hurt or help her.

"Thank you for calling me Miss Lynch. I know you must be very busy, and I very much appreciate your help." Shelly directs Audrey into the living room where she takes a crystal glass and fills it with cold water from a pitcher. "Have a seat, and I will get Mrs. Thompson. Excuse me," Shelly says politely. How different life had become for Shelly -- she wondered where Judilou was living, and for a flash she imagines what it would be like if Judilou would pull into the circular drive in her Good Times van.

Shelly returns to the living room to find Audrey admiring the antique painted wall.  The wall, hand painted from floor to ceiling with a hunt scene, is peeling in places, which tells Audrey it must be a significant treasure or the Thompsons would have it repaired.

"I am so sorry, but Mrs. Thompson is on a conference call that should have ended thirty minutes ago. She asked that you come to her office," says Shelly.  The two girls who are only eight years apart seem to notice the age difference as a huge gap between themselves and they avoid chitchat as they ascend the polished marble stairs to the second floor.

Mrs. Thompson's office features a beautiful French Provencal desk, a chaise lounge and two antique needlepoint chairs. The telephone conversation fills the room through the phone’s speaker. Mrs. Thompson's side of the conversation is muted. "I am sorry for this rude intrusion into our meeting, Audrey. I am Beverly Thompson, and I'm delighted to meet you and am so thrilled that we've caught your interest in our little school. Please pardon this dreadful background noise, but I am on the Library Committee for Choate and this meeting has been going on for over an hour. My part is essentially done, but I need to keep an ear open for my name. In fact, Shelly, pick up the phone and listen to see if I am needed," says Mrs. Thompson.

"Oh, it is my privilege to meet you Mrs. Thompson, and I want to thank you very much for visiting with me about Choate. I know my grades might not be as good as the Admissions office would like, but I wanted to tell you that I have a note from my doctor that says I have an inability to learn foreign languages, and if my French grades were taken out of my average, then my GPA would increase to a 3.3!" rationalizes Audrey.

The visit between Mrs. Thompson and Audrey continues for a short time, and it is obvious that Mrs. Thompson is bored. Shelly senses that Mrs. Thompson wants the meeting to end, and says, "I think you will need to get back on this call in a few minutes, as they are starting to talk about your project again." 

Mrs. Thompson extends apologies to Audrey and Shelly hastens the girl from the room, down the stairs and to her awaiting car. "Good luck to you, Audrey," calls Shelly. "Thank you for helping me," says Audrey as she places something in Shelly's hand.  Shelly is confused and looks to find that Audrey has placed $20 in her hand.  Poor Audrey.

Poor Audrey, indeed. When Shelly gets back inside the house, Mrs. Thompson is standing at the bottom of the stairs, hands on skinny hips and glasses on nose.  "Please follow me," Mrs. Thompson says in a clipped tone. Like a dog who has peed on the floor and is being taken to the scene of the infraction to have his nose rubbed in the mess, Shelly follows the shriveled woman.

The women enter Mrs. Thompson's office, and Mrs. Thompson points to the chair where Audrey had been sitting.  "Look at that. Just look at that.  I am beside myself. Kitty and I bought that pair of chairs in France at the Marche aux Puces in 1985, and neither chair has had any parts replaced-- that is the chair’s original needlepoint! I paid over $20,000 for those two chairs," points and rages Mrs. Thompson. 

"How in the name of God, could that bumpkin have bleed on my original 18th century French needlepoint chair?  It's ruined.  Just ruined. Good-quality antiques, IF YOU TAKE CARE OF THEM, can double in value in five years. Never can that 'girlhood embroidery' be replaced, and prices have been running up on these rare pieces. I expect that one hour ago I could have gotten close to $100,000 for those chairs, and now, this pair of chairs is ruined because Audrey couldn't bother to change her tampon before she came into my office!  I am Li VID. Just livid. Old money est completement disparu." 

"Shelly, get out some paper. Compose a letter to Audrey's parents at their faux chateau and demand restitution. Bring the letter to me for review when you are done. Take photographs. Get Sotheby's on the phone.  And, get me a drink. I'm sick. Just sick," rails Mrs. Thompson.

As Mrs. Thompson exits through the secret wall panel in her office and goes into her dressing room presumably to lie down, Shelly stands in utter amazement.  What in the world will a letter to Audrey say?  No time to think about Audrey's feelings or flooding menstrual days, Shelly gets Mrs. Thompson a Pimms cocktail and begins to compose the letter to Audrey:

Miss Audrey Lancaster
Faux Chateau
Greenwich, Conn.

Dear Miss Lancaster:

It was kind of you to visit Henley Grove Farm today and visit with Mrs. Thompson about your desired enrollment at The Choate School. Regrettably, you left something of importance and the household staff is unsure how to handle your loss. 

It appears that while in Mrs. Thompson's office you sat on a rare French antique chair with original 18th needlepoint. The chair is soiled by what "The Needlework Doctor", Ms. Mary Kay Davis, has determined is menstrual blood. Ms. Davis consulted with an upholstery expert recommended by Sotheby's and the plan is for the Textile Conservation Center at the American Textile History Museum in Lowell, Massachusetts remove the needlepoint from the frame, and all attempts will be made to remove the stain.

Removing the stain will prevent the chair from being sent to the woodpile, but the chair’s value stemmed from the fact it was in excellent condition with all original parts. The chair's value has been cut in half, at a minimum, and there is absolutely nothing that can be done to regain that untouched quality. However, I will be sending you a series of invoices over the next couple of months for the consultation with Ms. Davis, the upholstery work and the cleaning.

If you have questions about this situation, please do not hesitate to telephone me directly.

Sincerely,

Shelly Lynch
Assistant to Mrs. Frank Thompson

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I won’t go into detail, but ironically I had a similar experience to Audrey, though, luckily for me my situation involved a vinyl, Mexican chair and not a “girlhood embroidery’ French chair. 

My white eyelet skirt did not fare well, and I was forced to spend some time in the Damas room washing my skirt in the sink.  Since the skirt was soaking wet in the back I hung it on the door hook to dry and wrapped my pashmina around my hips sarong-style. Actually, it was a really cute look, but one wrong move and that silky scarf could have dropped to the ground and Victoria’s secret could have been revealed.

Sitting at the table with my family I ask my husband if he even notices that am no longer wearing my skirt.  Upon observing my skirt was off, I think the hubby had a tremor. Mr. Duck-Taped Shoe was aghast and became highly nervous that I might be arrested for stripping in a restaurant.  Truly, it didn’t bother me at all after a second mojito.  When lunch was finished I sashayed to the Dama’s room, retrieved my damp skirt and collected my paralyzed and drop-jawed family. 

Comments

[Polly Poppins]

Oh Bitsy! I envy your verve and your second mojito. As for your excerpt: thank you for the sneak peek. I feel very important now. And someday, maybe I will show you mine, but not today darlink, not today.