The Man in the Purple Dinner Jacket

It was the 16^th night of December and the Bolvier’s were hosting their annual holiday black tie event where all the largest donors in the city would congregate, drink, laugh and open their wallets for charity. Mr. and Mrs. Bolvier lived in a rather rural piece of offshoot land just outside the city limits. 

    Mr. Bolvier was a trust fund child who routinely found himself in precarious positions with precarious people doing precarious things. That was, of course, when he was just a boy. He became a boarding school graduate of the prestigious Mount Charles Academy for Boys, an academy he gained entry not for his grades or extra curriculum acumen, but his parents fortune. 

    It was during those days where he would meet the one-day Mrs. Bolvier. A lovely young lady attending an all-girls academy on the other side of town. The two met during the awkward forced dances that were held twice a year, once at Mount Charles and once at Our Lady of Grace. He was the bad boy acting out and she was the shy studious type. She would watch him cut a rug on the dance floor throughout their freshman and sophomore years before he caught her trying to hide a nervous smile. 

    The lights dimmed low and with them the DJ’s voice welcomed a slow bit for all the couples there that evening. The Mount Charles boys on the left side of the gymnasium exited the floor in one united pack while the Grace girls did the same to the right. Bolvier had other ideas as he braved the high school awkwardness and asked the shy Grace Academy girl who sat atop the bleachers for a dance.

    “Excuse me. Care to dance?” He, asked.

    “No. I don’t think so. I don’t dance.” She, said.

    Bolvier smiled to her and extended his hand knowing full well the eyes of both sides of the gymnasium were on the two of them.

    “I’m just gonna keep asking, Holly. I’m not nervous anymore. You shouldn’t be either.” Bolvier, said.

    Defenseless as she be, the simple knowledge that this boy she had watched cut loose for two years knew her name, she agreed to the dance.

    He never went a day without holding her hand again. He broke her out of her shell, and she encouraged a level of maturity that his mates from boarding school never could. They were in every way the couple that raised the ceilings for their partner. 

    “Greetings to all our friends and city family. We are so honored and humbled that you could join us again this holiday season. Please, enjoy yourselves and our home. Donation boxes are set up in various parts of the home with a small, personalized exhibit designed by those who work in, or are recipients of the charities for the evening. They are in no way mandatory, but as always, whatever the event raises, me and my lovely wife agree to match 100%. Go forth! Drink. Dance. Eat. Mingle!” Mr. Bolvier, said.

    A gentle acknowledgement from the guests signaled the shallow crescendo of the string quartet set up in the corner of entrance room. Dual winding staircases flanked the sides of the room for the guests, all leading to a connective mezzanine hall where the Bolvier’s made that grand welcome announcement. This was always Mr. Bolvier’s choice, where Mrs. Bolvier wished they’d welcome their guests on the main floor with them in a more personable fashion. 

    “Hun, must we always greet our friends like we are the Royal Family?” Mrs. Bolvier, asked.

    Mr. Bolvier just smiled with his glass still raised nodding an individual series of cheers to various guests’ who’s eyes remained fixed to their second story greeting place. His tuxedo was pristine, fitted to his frame the day before the event. His salt and pepper hair greased like an extra in the rat pack, and an intentional 5’oclock shadow that he felt would appeal to the few working-class attendees and make him look slightly less rich. Less perfect. Like one of them.

    “Darling, what’s the point in having this space if I can’t gain the attention of a room full of uppity rich snobs?” He, asked.

    “YOU’RE an uppity rich snob, Henry!” Mrs. Bolvier, laughed. 

    “Oh, she is a feisty one, isn’t she. And ohp…what’s that I hear? How about a dance, Hol? I’m just gonna keep asking if you say no.” He said through a smile.

    Mr. Bolvier dipped his wife whilst grabbing her champagne float between two free fingers and kissed her passionately. Not a drop of champagne hit the red and gold carpeted floor. The man was truly embracing his Clooney era of suave. 

    Mrs. Bolvier, just as she was that night on the Academy bleachers was utterly defenseless to Henry’s charm. The two were deeply in love and had an inherent connection to one another from the moment they met that burned every bit as strong with each passing day. 

    “Oh, Henry. You’re so bad. You just love the attention, don’t you?” She, asked through playful laughter.

    “I live to make you smile. To make you laugh. And to dance with you always, my love.” He, said.

    “Darling. Who is that? The man in the purple dinner jacket. I don’t think I’ve seen him here before?” Holly, asked.

    Mr. Bolvier guided his wife out of their dipped position and returned her champagne float back to her as he softly kissed her cheek. “You look absolutely stunning tonight, Hol.” He, said. 

    Mr. Bolvier then scanned the room looking to find the man his wife had mentioned. There, he saw a man with an oversized purple dinner jacket, black dress slacks and brown shoes standing by the donation exhibit for an environmental cleanup fund geared towards treating the polluted water ways that lead into the city. The man in the purple dinner jacket stood of average frame and took no special care towards his presentation. While Mr. and Mrs. Bolvier watched him from the top of their mezzanine section, they observed his timid, jerky behaviors and the surrounding guests passed judgmental looks and issued likely gossip talk to those around them when the gentleman would pass by.

    “I don’t think I know him. I’ll check with the valet’s and the front desk to see what name he checked in under. Shouldn’t be too difficult to remember the only guest at the party not wearing black. I’ll get it sorted, my love.” He, said.

    The man in the purple dinner jacket had found himself at the open bar station in the east wing of the Bolvier’s house. He requested a club soda with lime from the lady tending the bar.

    “Think if I hold this here drink, I may blend in a bit better?” The man in the purple dinner jacket, asked. 

    The curious bartender offered a polite but forced smile to the gentleman and handed him his drink. “Perhaps, Mr. Bolvier has a less…flashy dinner jacket that he could loan you from his closet. You appear of similar build. Shall I call for him, sir?” The bartender, asked.

    The man in the purple dinner jacket returned the smile and left a two-dollar bill in the glass bowl reserved for tips. The MacBeth’s had observed the interaction and waited from a careful distance before creeping to the bar to learn of the mystery man.

    “Good evening, madam. The gentleman with whom you just served – did you happen to catch his name?” Sterling MacBeth, asked.

    “No. But feel free to take that crumbled two-dollar bill he put in that bowl and take it to your friends on the force to dust for greasy fingerprints. Oh god. I’m so sorry. I did not mean to say that out loud. I’m so sorry.” The bartender, said.

    The MacBeth’s smirked in response to the bartender and turned to catch the man in the purple dinner jacket. He was no where to be seen. For just a brief moment of interaction with the bartender, the man in the purple jacket was able to navigate his way out of the east wing and no longer in view of the nosey MacBeth’s.

    A buzz amongst the Bolvier’s guests had commenced and carried it’s awkward weight throughout the evening. Men in their custom tuxedo’s and women in their lovely gowns were utterly confused by the presence of the man in the purple dinner jacket. He’d bounce from room to room, sometimes making an effort to engage in small talk with after guest who politely excused themselves after just a single back and forth. Other times, he’d engage in awkward passerby moments that routinely had him gentle grabbing the arm or backs of guests he’d attempt to squeeze by without interrupting.

    Every room Mr. and Mrs. Bolvier entered was littered with the whispers and judgmental stares of their guests. Embarrassment and frustration grew for the hosts of the evening who feared the man in the purple dinner jacket’s presence was distracting from the intention of the evening. 

    “Henry, what did the valet and check in staff say when you asked them about this man?”

    “Valet never saw him. Front desk ladies only saw him once he was inside. They each figured the other let him in and didn’t question it.” Henry, said.

    Henry could sense his response was not adequate for his wife and that she was growing concerned that a stranger, even more so than the rest of the guests was there of ill intent. Holly had always had a chip on her shoulder, a desire to prove herself as worthy and useful to her community. She was well aware of the image her and her husband had as the heirs to a fortune not earned by the sweat of their own efforts. 

    “I’ll…I’ll search the party for this man and question his intention for crashing our evening. Will you please try to do some damage control with these snobs while I search? Henry, asked.

    Henry knew that joking like that, calling out the wealth and pretentious nature of their guests would get a rise out of his wife. For as much as he lamented not enjoying those who behaved with such dismissive tone for those of a lesser status, he certainly enjoyed being a part of the club a bit more than Holly thought he knew. That had been one of those moments.

    “I’ll remind you that these snobs are going to help secure the finances to begin attacking a multitude of really impactful projects for our community. And right now, they can’t stop talking about a guest that no one has ever seen before.” Holly, said.

    Holly’s brow was pinched tightly atop her nose and her chest grew a patchy red flare as she spoke to her husband. These were the signs that Henry grew to know and understand that his wife was not in the mood for lighthearted attempts to diffuse an uncomfortable situation. Henry never did grow into a level of maturity that naturally enabled him to live in the awkward tension of moment and address it with grace. For all the growing up he had done at the side of his beautiful wife, that was something he simply couldn’t change.

    “I understand. I’m sorry. Call me if you spot the man in the purple dinner jacket? I will go search the other wings of the home. And I’ll even, try…try to interact and reduce concerns should they be brought up. I promise, my love. I’ll get to the bottom of this.” He, said.

    Room to room, Henry mingled with guest after guest keeping careful eye of the space around him for the appearance of the man in the purple dinner jacket. Maybe he left the party? He thought to himself. And just as he was shaking the hand of the Police chief, he saw the tail of the purple jacket pass through the hall. With it, an almost reflexive look of disgust and a rising of whisper chatter. 

    “Sir. Sir? Excuse me, sir.” Henry, said.

    Henry tailed the gentleman down the wide hall that housed a handful of party guests looking for a bit a quiet from the main rooms of the first floor. The quiet murmur of the hallway guests was certainly not loud enough to detract the man in the purple dinner jacket from hearing the request of Mr. Bolvier for his attention. 

    “Stop that man!” Henry, yelled.

    Security at the second entrance held up the man in the purple dinner jacket. He was fidgety, apologetic and lacked eye contact for the two security officers. Henry caught up and instructed one of the officers to find his wife and let her know that the man in the purple dinner jacket had been found and removed. The officer nodded and went on his way. 

    “What is your name, sir? How did you get in here tonight?” Henry, asked.

    “I’m terribly sorry if I have caused you trouble. I…I meant no harm.  I’ll be on my way.” The man in the purple dinner jacket, said. 

    “This is a private event. Invitation only. How did you get in here?”

    “Honest. I meant no harm or intrusion. I just wanted to be a part of the evening. I apologize. I will leave. Or apologize to your lovely wife and guests and then leave. Whatever I can do.” The man, said.

    He never made eye contact with Henry and his voice was higher pitched and softer than expected. The man’s slight underbite gave him just the feintest of lisps, hardly recognizable unless he spoke at great length. He appeared no real threat. Henry even began to feel a bit sorry. It was clear the man in the purple dinner jacket was aware his presence made others uncomfortable and all he wanted was to belong. 

    “That won’t be necessary. Though it is appreciated, and I will be certain to pass that along to my wife. Leave your name and number with the security officer and well, let’s see if we can’t get to know one another and maybe an invite to next years event. But for now, I am going to have to ask you to leave.”

    Security ushered the man in the purple dinner jacket through the exit and to the main valet station where he waited for an uber that was called on his behalf. Henry returned to the main room where he met up with Holly, who by now was relieved to know their unwanted guest had been removed.

    “Shall we read the totals for the donation bins?” Holly, asked.

    Mr. and Mrs. Bolvier graced the elevated section of the main room and announced for all the guests to join them for donation totals announcement of the evenings five charities/causes. The guests took great pride in this announcement as the largest donor for charity was publicly recognized in front of all of their friends, family and colleagues. Henry always whispered some sarcastic remark to his wife about the donors desire to be recognized being egocentric and his wife would lovingly remind him of the irony that statement gave coming from the man who throws a party with the intention of matching every donation received.

    “Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you again so much for this years’ fundraising campaign. Holly and I are so grateful to be a part of such a wonderfully generous group of individuals and look forward to seeing all the impact your donations bring to our community. We have raised a grand total of…wait a minute, is this real?? $22.5 million dollars across five charities!” Henry, announced.

    The room erupted in cheer for the extreme generosity of the evening. Henry and Holly stared at each other in disbelief before they observed the room in front of them as eyes wandered all around as folks tried to pick out the biggest donors of the evening.

    “Okay. Okay. Okay! What an incredible night! We have surpassed last years record setting donation of $7.3 million dollars by over three times the amount! Give yourselves a round of applause! And pray for me and Holly’s wallet, yewww!” Henry, said through amused laughter.

    “Wow! What an evening, folks! I am so honored to be in a room with so many selfless, caring and kind human beings. And now, on behalf of me, my handsome stud of a husband and the five charities of the evening, we would like to extend a special thank you to the top donor of each charity of the evening! First, for Newsome’s Hydration Pl…wait. I’m sorry, folks. There must be some mistake.” Holly, said.

    The Bolvier’s money manager stood adjacent to the platform the couple stood and gave Holly a head nod and mouthed the words, “it’s right” before gesturing to her to continue.

    “It looks like one very, very special and generous donor has made the largest donation in all five charities! With a total donation of $15 million dollars, please, take a bow…JEB?” Holly, announced.  

    The room applauded briefly whilst guests turned to find the generous donor who had not made themselves known. Henry and Holly scanned the room as the silence grew closer to present.

    “A mystery donor, eh?? I respect your desires for privacy and am grateful for your generosity. Everyone, continue being here! Enjoy the rest of the evening.” Henry, said. 

    The music picked up and guests returned to mingling in their clusters. Henry and Holly left the platform and began to shake hands and hug the guests in the room for their donations and presence that evening.

    “Jeb, huh? You donate under an alias yourself, Hol?” Henry, asked. 

    Holly rolled her eyes and leaned in for a hug from her husband when they were approached by the security guard from earlier in the evening. He handed Mr. Bolvier a folded piece of paper. On it, a name and a phone number to the man in the purple dinner jacket. 

Jefferson Edward Baker

555-857-5515