unwilling to lose her safe connection.
“Where are your parents tonight?” Hobie asked Zeta.
“At the cattleman’s club as usual,” she replied. “Miss Pratt is our chaperone.”
“I think she’s referring to the Paytons’ housekeeper,” Benjamin supplied.
“Frances is apprenticed at the Newton Kansan, ” Zeta told Lorabeth.
“Oh, I’ve read it,” she answered.
A couple of them laughed as though she’d made a joke.
She glanced at Benjamin. “I have.”
He nodded with a smile.
“Let’s have punch and sandwiches, and then I have some very special parlor games planned,” Zeta suggested.
“What are the games?” Lorabeth asked quietly as they mingled with the crowd around the table in the dining room.
“Charades, guessing games, proverbs, things like that,” he replied.
“I know a lot of proverbs,” she assured him.
He gave her a weak smile.
“Is it liquor?” she asked of the punch.
He dipped a ladle, poured liquid into a small glass cup and tasted it. “Yup.”
She glanced around the room. Studied the huge bowl with orange slices floating on top. Looked at the cup. The liquid was orange and fruity looking. She didn’t intend to disregard her father’s teachings and reflect poorly on him. Surely a sip wouldn’t hurt. She’d promised herself never to hesitate and miss out again. “I’ll have a little taste,” she said.
Without expression he handed her the cup he’d just sipped from.
Lorabeth tasted the cold liquid. It was sweet and fruity and had a little sting that made her nose tickle.
Lightning didn’t strike her dead. “It’s quite refreshing.”
Ben poured himself a cup from a pitcher of lemonade. She asked the question with her eyes and he answered with a shake of his head. Plain lemonade.
Benjamin handed her a plate and she followed him behind the line of guests, selecting a couple of dainty sandwiches. He led her to a long low divan and took her plate so she could adjust her dress to sit. He left and returned with a plate for himself.
Lorabeth was amused by the chatter around her and took pleasure in the playful banter. Her father would be appalled at the frivolous waste of time and money. There wasn’t anything edifying about the evening thus far.
She was loving it.
The hostess strolled past with a tray of full cups, and she traded her empty one for a full one. The second cup of fruity punch was even better than the last.
Benjamin finished eating and took their trays.
“Jenetta will keep track of forfeits this evening,”
Zeta announced.
“What does that mean?” Lorabeth whispered.
“Each time you lose, you add a forfeit to your tally.
At the end of the games you have to pay.”
“With what? I didn’t bring any money.”
“No, you pay with whatever the forfeit is at that time, like a song or a joke. The forfeits are just another part of the games.”
“Oh, I see.”
“We’re moving into my father’s study for the first game,” Zeta said. “It’s all set up.”
The gathering merged down a hall and into a large room lit only by a flickering light. A sheet had been hung to divide the entrance of the room from the fireplace, she realized.
Murmurs and chuckles erupted from the crowd.
“This is a shadow game,” Benjamin supplied.
They all walked around the sheet and took seats on chairs and the floor by the fireside.
“Draw a number,” Zeta said, and passed a bowl of paper slips.
Lorabeth drew seven. Benjamin had twelve.
“Number one!” Carrie called. “Who’s going to start?”
Jenetta jumped up and moved to the back side of the sheet.
Zeta motioned for Frances to get up. The girl took her hair down from its chignon, shook it out and tucked her arms close to her body and walked before the sheet.
Lorabeth realized then that Frances was backlit by the fire and only appeared as a shadow to Jenetta on the other side of the sheet.
“Who is it?” Zeta asked.
“It’s Carrie,” Jenetta guessed.
“No!” the gathering
“Where are your parents tonight?” Hobie asked Zeta.
“At the cattleman’s club as usual,” she replied. “Miss Pratt is our chaperone.”
“I think she’s referring to the Paytons’ housekeeper,” Benjamin supplied.
“Frances is apprenticed at the Newton Kansan, ” Zeta told Lorabeth.
“Oh, I’ve read it,” she answered.
A couple of them laughed as though she’d made a joke.
She glanced at Benjamin. “I have.”
He nodded with a smile.
“Let’s have punch and sandwiches, and then I have some very special parlor games planned,” Zeta suggested.
“What are the games?” Lorabeth asked quietly as they mingled with the crowd around the table in the dining room.
“Charades, guessing games, proverbs, things like that,” he replied.
“I know a lot of proverbs,” she assured him.
He gave her a weak smile.
“Is it liquor?” she asked of the punch.
He dipped a ladle, poured liquid into a small glass cup and tasted it. “Yup.”
She glanced around the room. Studied the huge bowl with orange slices floating on top. Looked at the cup. The liquid was orange and fruity looking. She didn’t intend to disregard her father’s teachings and reflect poorly on him. Surely a sip wouldn’t hurt. She’d promised herself never to hesitate and miss out again. “I’ll have a little taste,” she said.
Without expression he handed her the cup he’d just sipped from.
Lorabeth tasted the cold liquid. It was sweet and fruity and had a little sting that made her nose tickle.
Lightning didn’t strike her dead. “It’s quite refreshing.”
Ben poured himself a cup from a pitcher of lemonade. She asked the question with her eyes and he answered with a shake of his head. Plain lemonade.
Benjamin handed her a plate and she followed him behind the line of guests, selecting a couple of dainty sandwiches. He led her to a long low divan and took her plate so she could adjust her dress to sit. He left and returned with a plate for himself.
Lorabeth was amused by the chatter around her and took pleasure in the playful banter. Her father would be appalled at the frivolous waste of time and money. There wasn’t anything edifying about the evening thus far.
She was loving it.
The hostess strolled past with a tray of full cups, and she traded her empty one for a full one. The second cup of fruity punch was even better than the last.
Benjamin finished eating and took their trays.
“Jenetta will keep track of forfeits this evening,”
Zeta announced.
“What does that mean?” Lorabeth whispered.
“Each time you lose, you add a forfeit to your tally.
At the end of the games you have to pay.”
“With what? I didn’t bring any money.”
“No, you pay with whatever the forfeit is at that time, like a song or a joke. The forfeits are just another part of the games.”
“Oh, I see.”
“We’re moving into my father’s study for the first game,” Zeta said. “It’s all set up.”
The gathering merged down a hall and into a large room lit only by a flickering light. A sheet had been hung to divide the entrance of the room from the fireplace, she realized.
Murmurs and chuckles erupted from the crowd.
“This is a shadow game,” Benjamin supplied.
They all walked around the sheet and took seats on chairs and the floor by the fireside.
“Draw a number,” Zeta said, and passed a bowl of paper slips.
Lorabeth drew seven. Benjamin had twelve.
“Number one!” Carrie called. “Who’s going to start?”
Jenetta jumped up and moved to the back side of the sheet.
Zeta motioned for Frances to get up. The girl took her hair down from its chignon, shook it out and tucked her arms close to her body and walked before the sheet.
Lorabeth realized then that Frances was backlit by the fire and only appeared as a shadow to Jenetta on the other side of the sheet.
“Who is it?” Zeta asked.
“It’s Carrie,” Jenetta guessed.
“No!” the gathering
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