Free Little Pink Slips by Sally Koslow Page A

both of her own. "Harry, I'm so
    glad you could join us." But when Harry began to thank her, she had
    already turned to receive the next couple, whom Magnolia recognized from the Sunday Times Evening Hours photos as a Park Avenue plastic surgeon and his bony wife. Natalie didn't bother to introduce
    Harry and her, and motioned them toward the door to the back
    veranda. Waiters circulated with delicate walnut-stuffed artichokes,
    gooey Brie tartlets, and spears of asparagus to dip in a lemony sauce.
    Magnolia and Harry maneuvered past a throng to the bar, trying to
    avoid eye contact with the head of Scary circulation, who looked like
    the missing Marx brother but who, sadly, lacked the family's wit.
    Drink in hand, Magnolia noticed an old-fashioned glider at the end of
    the porch. She weighed whether she might park herself with Harry
    for a respectable length of time, dodge the small talk with other
    guests, and get to know this man just a little better. She didn't know
    if it was due to the magical combination of dusk and high-voltage
    electricity—or the fact that she hadn't eaten so much as a six-ounce
    yogurt all day—but during the ride, he seemed to have grown more
    attractive.
    No such luck. "Magnolia, speaking of the devil . . ." It was Darlene,
    coming at her like a tornado and speaking with that natural disaster's
    force. "Charlotte and I were wondering if you'd be here. I knew you
    were a Wong girl."
    Magnolia had almost forgotten that the party was in tribute to
    Dr. Winnie Wong, the dermatologist, and Darlene and Charlotte were
    patients, too. Not that Natalie would have left them out even if
    tonight's celebration honored the assistant to the head of sanitation in
    Queens. Charlotte and Natalie were the best of friends and Darlene
    was, well, Darlene, who got herself invited everywhere.
    Charlotte, she suspected, had done a bit better at the Chanel
    sample sale than she had. As Magnolia was complimenting her on her
    satin pants and tiny beaded halter, both of which exactly matched her
    Gwyneth-blond hair, Darlene was leaning dangerously close to Harry,
    snorting at something he'd said. Magnolia tried to eavesdrop while nodding attentively as Charlotte described in footnoted detail the
    house she was building in Sagaponack.
    "After a lot of thought, we decided to go with bidets in three out of
    five bathrooms," she said. "You know, from Waterworks. The white, not
    the bone. Definitely not the ivory." As Magnolia tried to concentrate
    on the stress of picking high-quality porcelain fixtures, she realized
    Darlene had commandeered even more of Harry's personal space and
    was now whispering—she hoped only that—into his ear. Magnolia
    waited until Charlotte drew a breath, then turned to Darlene.
    "What are the girls doing this summer?" she asked. Magnolia knew
    Darlene always shipped the three of them and the two senior nannies
    to her parents, the ranking royalty of Des Moines's country club set. Then in August she and her husband spent two weeks en famille on Martha's Vineyard. But Magnolia suspected that Darlene wouldn't
    want to out herself to Harry as a young matron with a large family.
    "The Vineyard. The usual," Darlene responded, with less than
    complete enthusiasm. But Darlene was not to be bested easily. "Harry,
    have you met Jock, our president?" she asked.
    There he was, strolling toward them, arm in arm with Bebe and
    Felicity, each of whom was dressed as if for the Grammys. In her red
    sequined pants and flowing top, Bebe appeared ready to accept her
    trophy with thanks to Jesus and her band, the Mother Fuckas. Felicity
    took it down a notch, in a black-and-gold-striped caftan. A vaguely
    familiar-looking man trailed them. Oh, yes, the Southerner, Arthur
    Montgomery, Jock's elevator friend and Bebe's lawyer.
    "Can you imagine anything more ideal than all of us meeting up
    here?" Jock boomed, pecking Magnolia's cheek.
    Magnolia could, actually. She and Jock exchanged introductions.
    "Magnolia, I