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I sighed again. If only I had done differently. If only… My mind repeated the phrase over and over in my head as I made my way over the sand dunes to take up my vigil on the beach again. I sat down in a small sliver of shade and spread out my tattered dress around me. My head was so heavy and sun so painful to my eyes that I could not keep them open. With a sigh, I let them close and leaned my head back against the rough skin of the palm tree. If only…
Tap-tap-tap. The rapping on my door interrupted my morning cup of coffee. Who in the world can that be, I wondered as I reluctantly set down my cup and dumped the cat off my lap. Probably someone selling something.
I opened the door with an “I’m not interested” ready, but it died on my lips. Then my heart skipped a beat. A stately looking man dressed impeccably in tux and tails stood there holding something in his hand. “What is this,” I thought, stunned.
The man at the door bowed politely and then placed a thick white envelope into my hand. With another bow, he turned and quickly walked away. I stood there motionless for a minute, stunned by what had just taken place. The cat rubbing around my legs and purring furiously brought me back to reality. I turned the envelope over and looked at the front. Then I threw back my head and laughed for joy.
But, could it really be. I had to know for sure. I quickly opened up the envelope and read the embossed card tucked inside. You are cordially invited to attend a dinner party at the Mediterranean residence of Chris and Katherine Rowland on May 18th. RSVP. “Yes,” I shouted causing the poor cat to flee under the sofa. I had just received an invite for the most sought-after event in the entire nation, perhaps the entire world. I couldn’t believe it. Of course I had known the Rowlands back when, but to receive an invite now was almost more than I could take in.
I walked around in a daze for the rest of the day. Not even Andy could bring me back to earth when looked at invite and commented, “We can’t go on the 18th, there’s a PTO meeting that night. And, anyways I don’t have the time to take off for a trip to Greece.” I scarcely heard him. It didn’t matter what his objections were, I was determined to go.
So it happened on the evening of May 18th, Andy and I stepped out of a cab into the balmy Grecian night. It felt strange not to have the boys with us, but I was sure they were having a great time at Grandma and Grandpa’s house.
The Rowland had done quite well for themselves, I thought as I looked at their plush seaside villa. But they deserved it. Chris and Katherine had spent years in the basement of their Indianapolis house developing and marketing PFSL@#$, a synthetic food which required no refrigeration and could be made to taste like anything from ice cream to prime rib.
At first, no one was interested in the product. But Katherine and Chris were determined and it had paid off. They were now co-owners of Rowland Corp., a multi-million dollar company employing thousands and feeding hundreds of thousands more worldwide.
I rang the doorbell and soon the door swung open. Katherine stood there looking elegant as always in a white linen pantsuit with a loop of freshwater pearls around her neck. “Darling, come in, come in,” she said. “You are the last ones to arrive.”
I can scarcely think about all the courses and wines that were served without my stomach rumbling. It was a truly elegant dinner served on the best china. It of course, included several creative dishes made from PFSL@#$.
Finally dinner was over. Chris rose from the table and announced, “Katherine and I would like to invite you all out to our yacht for some after dinner games.”
The yacht was a sumptuous as the house and almost as large. Katherine announced the first game as the yacht disembarked and sailed smoothly through the water. It was spoons, my favorite game. It was also Katherine’s favorite game, as I came to find out, and soon there was a fierce competition going between the two of us. One by one all the competitors were eliminated. Losing interest in a game they could not win, they left the room to seek the conversation and a glass of Chianti in the front stateroom.
It came down to the last round. Katherine and I eyed each other warily across the table. We both had SPOON. This round would determine who would be the winner and who would end up with the dreaded S.
The air crackled with tension as the cards were passed round the table and we began. Up, down went our hands as we looked at each of the cards. Faster, faster, faster we went in a frenzy of movement. Suddenly, Katherine’s hand went for the spoon. I shot my hand out in an effort to stop her. We reached the spoon at the same time, causing it to fly out the open French doors. Catapulting out of our seats, we leaped after it and hit our heads together with a resounding thud. Katherine fell backwards into the salon unconscious. I made a grab for the railing, but missed and tumbled into the sea.
I tried to scream as I swallowed mouthfuls of warm salt water and struggled against the folds of my dress that threatened to pull me under. “Help,” I yelled, but the yacht continued to sail away. Only Katherine knew I was gone, and she lay unconscious on the floor of the salon.
The rest of that night is a blur. In the morning, I found myself washed up on this desolate island. I have been there ever since. 52 days now.
There was a strange buzzing in my ears. I waved my hands around my head to shoo the fly away. But it was still there, and the buzzing was getting louder. Reluctantly, I opened my eyes, and then I jumped up in surprise. There on the beach was a black helicopter emblazoned on the side with the words, “Rowland Corp.” As I watched Katherine ran across the beach and grabbed me into a big bear hug.
So I was rescued and returned to civilization where I was met by a tearful Andy and ecstatic boys. After a shower and a steak dinner, Andy filled me in on the details of that night. The others assumed that Katherine and I had continued to play games throughout the night. It wasn’t until morning that Katherine was discovered unconscious on the floor of the salon and I was nowhere to be found. Katherine had been rushed to the hospital and had remained in a coma for weeks. A massive search party had been organized to find me, but had been unsuccessful. It was only when Katherine was released from the hospital two days ago that she insisted on another search.
Later in the day, I saw Katherine sitting in the lobby of the hotel and I stopped to give her my thanks. “What made you think I was still out there?” I asked.
“For one thing, we hadn’t finished our game,” Katherine said. “But there was another reason, too.” Katherine smiled slightly. “You see, finding you was the only way I could stop all the bad press.” I looked puzzled as Katherine pulled something from her handbag. It was a copy of the National Enquirer. The headline read “Guest Tossed from Dinner Party – Billionairesse Blames Flying Spoon.”
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