Circling back through the dining room Fiona flicked an errant crumb from the tablecloth, shifted the tray microscopically, and repositioned the raspberry swirl shortbread cookies into a new stack. Polished table. Polished hostess. Now to keep the guests engaged in lively conversation and steer conversation from the scandal hitting their cul-de-sac.    Not easy when you gather five ladies of a certain age in one room with sugar and a steady flow of beverages. No retiring tea party this one. This group liked to punctuate their sentences with pinot and cabernet.

Loren was the first to arrive, as was expected. She had never been late for anything in the time Fiona had known her. Even the lawn sprinklers clicked on at precisely the second grass began to wane from vibrant Kelly green to something more muted. Everything in her life was regulated. Even footsteps in perilously high heels were perfectly syncopated. No surprises. Clutched in her hand was a sheaf of robin’s egg blue paper that bore a  bold headline and exclamatory bullet points that alerted the reader to the peril striking the laid-back neighborhood.

Sophia was the second to arrive. A flurry of scarves, boots that could double as slippers, and a non-stop stream of apologies announced her entrance. While extending regrets for being late (she wasn’t), making a mess (she hadn’t), and fearing that she had made the wrong decision when packing cookies in the red tin rather than the natural woven basket, she managed to distract Loren long enough that Fiona was able to liberate the plate of Linzer cookies from her grip, while simultaneously accepting the tin of cookies from Sophia and heading toward the dining table. 

With her back to the open door, Fiona detected Ana’s fragrant arrival before seeing her. Imbued with essential oils for all manner of ailments real or potential, she strode into the entry bringing with her the scent of clary sage and lemon. Fiona could only hope that her cookies would be culinary, not medicinal. Let it not be said she hadn’t sampled more than her fair share of Ana’s herbal offerings, but there was still something to be said for a straightforward cookie now and then. 

Ana handed over a box of nondescript cookies and Fiona picked up a scent of summer and childhood picnics. Only now in her hands, did she see that the basket was of hand-woven sweetgrass. Releasing the basket, Ana dipped her hand into her pocket and sprinkled salt across the doorstep. “To ward off ill intent” she offered without being asked. 

That left only our newest member of the group, Rowan. Notoriously a late arrival, it was a really a question of” regular late” or “extraordinarily late” when it came to Rowan. New to the neighborhood as well as the group of women, she offered no excuses for her consistently late arrivals, but lived by the maxim that any party worth attending would still be there when she got there. Not to be hurried, this one.

Ushering the ladies into the living room, the wine glasses practically leaped into waiting hands. Opening bottles and liberal pouring kicked the event into gear.

“Those cookies are the last thing my thighs need. We couldn’t have a salad?” Loren asked as she did every time the friends got together. 

“Yes, Loren. Christmas salad is all the rage these days.   I think I heard a song about it on the radio on the way to Target the other day” Ana offered. She leaned back into the fashionably shabby wing chair, one foot on the seat, knee bent, and the remaining wool-clad foot drawing patterns in the carpet below the chair. “Life is short. Eat the damned cookies.”

Loren brought forth an offended sniff. “Some of us have to be photograph ready and can’t afford to be quite so…earthy” she intoned, casting an eye over Ana’s attire. “You’re so lucky. My husband would kill me if I ever went out in anything that was so…..casual.”

“A ringing endorsement for matrimony if ever there was one” Ana boasted as she raised her glass in salute. “This, my girls, is why I will forever be the lone holdout of our street. Husbands who murder over clothing choices…How would I ever get so lucky?”

“Let’s not do this again” Sophia sighed wearily. “It’s so old news. Every time we get together we have to do this married versus unmarried, couture versus comfort, hag-wrangle. Aren’t you tired of it yet? Pass the wine this way. When are we ever going to move past junior high?”

#

“Fiona? Are you joining us or are you going to spend the evening worrying those cookies into dust?” Loren tossed over her shoulder.

“Just watching for Rowan” Fiona replied, but hastily took her hands off the tray she had been tidying when she was called out. Turning, Fiona almost tripped over Minky, her ancient dust mop of a dog. They both yelped in surprise and retreated to separate sides of the room.

“Fiona, we can’t wait on Rowan. Lord, that girl could be here sometime tomorrow and swear we changed the date on her” Loren grumbled.

“One time, Loren. That happened once” Ana intervened. “She’ll be here.”

#

The first glasses were ancient history when Rowan arrived. Setting down a bakery box of cookies on the dining table, she greeted each woman in turn.  “I know we said homemade, but honestly, I was painting and the light was just right and suddenly I realized it was getting late and I didn’t have time to make a full batch of cookies and get here on time…”

“An hour late” Loren interjected.

“Well, nearly on time then” Rowan offered with an impish grin. “Better than last time, right?” It was impossible to stay angry at Rowan. It was like being angry at an enthusiastic puppy who has mistaken your shoe for a rawhide. You had good reason, but you didn’t have the heart.

Rowan flopped in a tangle of legs and pillows on the floor and began pouring a glass of wine. She was the type who sat first and assessed if there was personal space later. It had taken Loren nearly the whole meeting in October to recover from having Rowan practically in her lap as she attempted to share the ottoman Loren was perched on.  Loren had added this to the list of reasons to arrive early, so she could scope out the most decidedly single-person seating in the room and prevent this from being a repeat occurrence.

With everyone in the room, Fiona quickly excused herself to start the coffee in the kitchen. Coffee that would not be consumed, but lent the gathering an air of credibility, making those who questioned how much wine had been consumed feel less guilty when they went home with the aroma of coffee lingering in their hair and clothing. It made one seem nearly virtuous. 

As the burbling began in the machine, Fiona quickly texted, “Now. I’ve got this.” 

A confirmation thumbs up was all she needed to see before rejoining her guests. Her nervous tucking and primping barely under her control, she nodded and smiled as she sank into the remaining spot on the couch. Wine waited for her and the others, not ones to stand on propriety, gave a salute with glasses in hand.  A quick glance to her wrist provided information that only three minutes had passed, but time had taken on an urgent quality. This whole event had to go without a snag.

#

“…and there it was, right in the middle of my floor. This obscene item. I have never been so horrified in my life. To think, decent people having to come home to find someone’s unmentionables right in the middle of the floor!” Loren wailed.

“And you still don’t know where they came from?” Sophia asked? 

“As if I know someone like that!”Loren gasped, hand over heart dramatically. “The company I keep is not inclined in that way. We are serious and respectable members of this community!”

“How would it get into your house? It’s not like people arrive and just throw off their clothing at the door,” Ana joked.

“Are you implying that I have something to do with this travesty, Ana?” Loren nearly shrieked. 

“No, just wondering aloud, I guess. It seems strange is all. Logically, a scarf could be dropped, but scanty panties? That’s tougher to explain,” Ana continued.

Sophia shuffled in her seat, apologizing for jostling Fiona. “Do you think someone left it there on purpose? To shock you, or maybe make a statement?”

Loren stood waving one arm madly, wine sloshing slightly and gestured at the assembled group. “Who knows what kind of depraved person wears these things, less leave them in a decent woman’s living room? What could the statement be, I ask you? ‘I’m a nasty bit of work and want you all to know?’”

Fiona stood beside Loren now, gently ushering her back to a seated position. “Now, let’s not let this get in the way of enjoying our meeting. And we have cookies to swap. It’s Christmas after all.” Her words seemed to deflate Loren’s outrage and the crimson-faced woman settled once again into the cushions. 

“Well, if this happened to you, we’d see if you would be so calm about it. The whole space has been violated. It took me months to get the right carpet to accent the new sofa. Now, every time I walk into that room, all I can see is that lurid abomination. It’s like a spotlight on that area of the room,” Loren sniffed dejectedly.

Fiona, patting her guest’s shoulder gently in a “there-there” gesture, nodded sympathetically and then looked around the room. “I’m sure we can all appreciate how trying this has been, but really, can we all rise above this little upset and move on with the evening?”

Nods, in various levels of enthusiasm, accompanied this statement. Glasses were raised once more and all seemed to be moving away from the topic of scandalous, unclaimed underthings. The quiet following sips doing nothing to muffle the curious musing from Rowan as she shifted position on the floor. “I wonder though… ,“

#

“I’ll just check the coffee and be right back,” Fiona explained as she rose from the couch arm. 

A chorus of “None for me,” and concerns about insomnia trailed behind her, but ritual demanded that a carafe be placed in the room so that all could say coffee had been served. Surreptitiously checking her phone, Fiona saw the three moving bubbles indicating a message in process. Stalling, she made audible gathering and preparing noises, building a façade of a woman collecting the accouterments of coffee service. Finally, the ping of an incoming message had her dashing around the kitchen island to get the update. 

“L’s husband still home.”

Rapidly entering her text, “Wait him out” she cast her eyes over her shoulder. All were engrossed in conversation in the living room. 

Loren, the reigning queen of organization and propriety had found a lady in waiting in Sophia.  She hung on her every word and strove to receive crumbs of praise. Ana and Rowan had general laissez-faire in common and an ability to live in the here and now, without taking things too seriously. Would they have found each other outside this neighborhood? Could this new friendship stand if her plan went awry?

“Please. We have to fix this” she added.

#

Returning to the living room, carafe balanced on a tray, Fiona smiled at this collection of friends. For they were, oddly enough, friends. Even Rowan, newest to the group, had found a way into her heart. How long could she delay the inevitable call of real-life pulling them from the comfort of the living room and back to their individual homes?  The cookies would only take a short time to collect into the waiting boxes.  Could she stall them longer?

A movie? No, that would never work on this group. An impromptu discussion of the latest best-seller? No, again. No common territory there. Boardgame? Cards? They would begin to think she had lost her mind. 

#

“Minky? Has anyone seen Minky?” Fiona called out. The ladies swiveled their heads in a quick scan, replying as they did so. No one had seen the errant little dog. “She was just here a bit ago. I nearly broke my ankle tripping over her,” Fiona offered.

“That reminds me, Fiona,” Ana began. “The other day, Minky was in my yard carrying the most bedraggled slipper I have ever seen. I tried to catch her, but she darted off in the direction of Rowan’s house and I wasn’t able to catch her.”

“Yes, the little wretch has been destroying shoes recently. If she can carry it, she relocates it. I have a very large collection of single shoes at the moment,” Fiona acknowledged. “I hope she didn’t cause any damage?”

“None at all, but I thought you should know she’s wandering farther afield these days,” Ana responded.

“Don’t I know it,” thought Fiona.

#

In the distant kitchen, Fiona heard a muted ping. “I should make sure I turned off the coffee maker,” she offered.

 “What to do?  He’s not leaving. Running out of time.”

“Few more minutes…please?”

“Ten more, then I’m out.”

“Minky is out and about again.”

“Who let her out?”

“? Keep an eye out.”

#

Guests were starting to signal leave-taking, shifting and checking time, leaning forward, and collecting glasses to be taken to the kitchen. The untouched coffee, remained at the ready for a pour that would not come

“The cookies! We haven’t done the exchange!” Fiona exclaimed.

“Honestly, can’t we just donate them? I don’t want to take them home with me,” Loren grumbled.

“I’m totally cutting wheat and sugar out of my diet, so I won’t be taking any with me,” Ana added.

“What am I going to do with five triple batches of cookies?” Fiona shrieked.

“Bake sale?” Sophia timidly offered, being shot a glance that stopped her in her tracks. “I mean, for the school or something? It could be our benevolent act for this month.”

“It’s pre-Christmas and I’m perimenopausal. Not beating someone with a candy cane and stringing them up in tinsel is my benevolent act for this month!” Ana groused.

“We are going to divvy up these cookies like we planned! We are going to box them up. We are going to do it and have fun. No one is going home until we have been merry!” Fiona shot forth in staccato cadence.

“Well, that is alarmingly precise and direct,” Loren sniffed. “Compulsory fun!”

“Cookies, ladies. To your stations!” Rowan called out.

The group meandered to the dining room and collection boxes. In near silence, they began putting cookies into prepared containers, the luster of joyful and friendly gathering somewhat dimmed. It was on the second trip around the table that Fiona saw the hall door begin to open and her world fall apart.

Her husband entered, bulging shopping bag in one hand and a disheveled mop of a dog in the other. 

“I found Minky!”

“What are you…doing here?” she stammered. “I didn’t expect you for at least another….and why do you have that with you?” she asked gesturing at the bag, her eyes communicating what her tone dared not in this group setting.

“It’s perfectly reasonable to just explain this and be done with the pretense,…” he began as Fiona attempted to shush him.

“What’s going on Andrew?” Ana entered, box in hand.

It’s funny really,” he offered. “ You see,…”

#

The ladies sat once more in the living room, no one making eye contact. A small pile of belongings at each guest’s feet in hastily gathered shopping bags. 

“I’m so sorry,” Fiona offered, near tears. “When it began, we didn’t know where it was all coming from, but as time went on, the items became alarmingly more…personal. And so we thought it was less embarrassing to sneak them back into your homes than to show up on your doorstep with lingerie or diaries in hand. Andrew tried to help by returning things when no one was home, but Minky has become a total Houdini and we had such an abundance recently.  We were merely guessing at who items belonged to and unfortunately, Loren, we left something behind that was never meant for you.”

“You thought ‘I’ wore those …things?” Loren screeched.

“NO! Just the opposite. We knew it couldn’t be you…we just had so many things to get back and we had to do it when you were all away from home. We lost sight of one of the items and didn’t know where it had been dropped until you found it.”

“Well, this is quite an interesting neighborhood I’ve found myself in,” Rowan giggled. “Far more fun than I expected when I was first invited for monthly tea.”

“It’s not funny Rowan,” Fiona snipped. “I’m mortified.”

“Why? It’s not your unmentionables that were in public without you. Your diary wasn’t cast about for neighbors to read” Ana offered.

“I’m actually a little offended that you were so sure those naughty knickers weren’t mine,” Loren said quietly. “I’m can be fun too.”

“This is a mess. I don’t know what to do. Please…Can you forgive and forget?” Fiona asked, Andrew coming to stand at her shoulder. “We’ll find a way to keep Minky home.”

Rowan was the first to giggle. Gradually Sophia joined in. The trickle of giggles, fed by the earlier wine rose into full laughter. When sides ached and tears ran freely, Ana finally spoke. 

“Do you know what? This is a like Nancy Drew. Can’t you just see it? ‘Fiona Saunders and the Case of the Purloined Panties’.   I’d read it, wouldn’t you?”

“Ana, dear? Have a cookie and do shut up, won’t you?” Loren snapped.

#