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"You should leave your sister alone today," Mommy warned him.

"It's all right, Mommy, as long as he's good," I said, glaring, at him sternly. I might as well have tried to melt ice with my look. No one but Daddy and Mrs. Boston could get Jefferson to behave if he didn't want to.

"I'll be good," he promised.

"If you are, you can come out and help me with the lawns this afternoon," Daddy said. That was enough to make him sit up straight, finish his breakfast and drink his milk. Afterward, he took my hand obediently, and we hurried out the door, down the steps and across the grounds, even beating Mommy to the hotel.

The grand ballroom was all lit up because the staff was putting up the decorations. Mommy had decided my party should have a musical theme, so there were huge pink and white styrofoam cut-outs of tubas, trumpets, drums and trombones, as well as violins, oboes and cellos along the walls. On both ends there were enormous cut-outs of pianos. From the ceiling the staff had hung multicolored styrofoam notes and on both ends of the ballroom there were to be huge clumps of balloons, all with the words: Happy Birthday Christie, Sweet Sixteen on them. Mommy said that after everyone sang "Happy Birthday" to me, the balloons were to be released.

When we arrived, the dining room staff was already there setting up the tables, putting on pink and blue paper cloths that picked up the musical theme with notes and bars. Each table would have a basket of party favors that included combs and mirrors, the mirrors with my picture on the back.

At the front of the room was the dais at which Daddy, Mommy, Grandmother Laura and Bronson, Aunt Trisha, Aunt Fern, Granddaddy Longchamp, his wife Edwina, and Gavin would sit with me and some of my best friends from school. Jefferson was excited because he had his own table for his school friends, as well as Richard and Melanie.

Just for this party, the lighting on the dance floor had been changed to include colorful revolving balls and pulsating spotlights. We had the hotel band and Mommy promised to sing a song or two with them.

Everyone was saying that this would be the best party ever held at the hotel. All the members of the hotel staff were either invited or working at the party, and most were as excited about it as we were.

Jefferson and I just stood in the doorway drinking in everyone and everything. They were all so busy, no one noticed us. Suddenly though, we heard someone say, "This is going to be a very expensive party."

We turned around to face Richard and Melanie, who stood so closely to each other it was as if they were attached. As usual, they wore matching outfits: Melanie in a navy blue skirt with a white blouse with blue polka dots, and Richard wearing navy blue pants and an identical shirt. Aunt Bet spent a good deal of her time finding them identical clothes. She was so proud of having twins and never missed an opportunity to show them off. They both had similar thick-lensed glasses, both having the same eyesight problems.

Richard and Melanie had straw blonde hair and Uncle Philip's clear blue eyes. They had identical pinched faces with Aunt Bet's sharp nose and thin mouth. Richard was slightly heavier and an inch or so taller, but Melanie had straighter teeth and smaller ears. Richard had more of a Cutler's shape—wide shoulders and narrow waist, and held his head more arrogantly, speaking with Aunt Bet's nasality. Of the two, Melanie was more withdrawn, and, I thought, more intelligent, despite Richard's air of superiority.

"Hi," I said. "It does look fabulous, doesn't it?"

"Fabulous," Richard mimicked dryly. He turned to Jefferson. "Father says we're going to sit at your table, so please don't embarrass us and Christie by spitting food or throwing spitballs."

"Jefferson isn't going to do anything like that tonight, are you?" I asked pointedly.

"Nope," he said, driving his hands deeply into his pockets. "I'm going to cut grass with Daddy this afternoon."

"Great," Richard said out of the corner of his mouth. "There is nothing I would like to do more than bounce around on a machine belching gas in the hot sun."

"What are you going to do now?" Jefferson asked, unaffected by Richard's sarcasm. I always enjoyed Jefferson's indifference to Richard's nastiness. He acted like Richard had some strange illness and it was best not to bring any more attention to it than necessary

"We were on our way to the game room," Melanie said. "We're going to play Parcheesi with some guest children."

"Can I watch?" Jefferson asked.

"I doubt that you can just watch," Richard said caustically. "But . . ."

"You can come along," Melanie finished. "Do you want to come, too, Christie?" she asked.

"No, I'm going to see Mr. Nussbaum. He told me to stop by this morning."

"The kitchen . . . ugh," Richard said.

"You shouldn't despise the hotel so much, Richard," I chastised. "You're a Cutler."

"He didn't say anything bad," Melanie snapped, coming to his defense quickly. It was as if I had said it to her.

"It's bad to look down on our staff and give them the impression you feel superior."

"We own the hotel," Richard reminded me.

"But it wouldn't be any good to us if staff members didn't want to work here and do a good job," I said pointedly. The two of them gaped at me through their thick lenses, which magnified their eyes so they looked more like frogs than kids. Richard finally shrugged.

"Let's go," he said to Melanie.