Canned Ravioli and Cheap Wine

Probably the last thing that Mavis Schuyler felt like doing was attending a dinner party at Tom Hartman's apartment with his snippy girlfriend--who also happened to be the mother of her late husband's love child--in attendance. Mavis had done her best to avoid Veronica Channing but it looked as if crossing the street and looking the other way wasn't going to work that night. She was going to be stuck in a tiny apartment, probably eating dinner at a card table bumping her knees with her late husband's mistress. What fun.

"Mom? Are you ready?" Tyler asked, coming into his mother's bedroom. "Why aren't you dressed?"

Mavis sighed elaborately. "What does one wear to a dinner party where one will undoubtedly be served something along the lines of saltines topped with Velveeta and an entree of canned ravioli washed down with cheap boxed wine?"

"Oh, Mother, you're the worst snob in the world. Why don't you go with an open mind? Who knows--you might have fun. Vlad is going to be there."

"Vlad. Yes." Mavis sighed again. "If Vlad is my niece's real father, that doesn't make us related, does it?"

"Of course it doesn't! It sort of makes him your almost brother-in-law although he isn't since he never married Aunt Lynette."

Mavis didn't like the sound of this whole mess. It was sounding decidedly Tennessee Williams to her or possibly something from an episode of The Waltons. "I think I have a headache. You go and tell Tom and that hussy girlfriend of his that I won't be able to make it."

"Mother, can't you at least try to be a normal human being once in a while? Come to the dinner party. You might surprise yourself and have a good time."

"Somehow the sound of being crammed into a tiny apartment with people I don't like drinking inferior wine doesn't sound like my definition of a good time."

Brad entered the bedroom. "Are you two ready yet? Claudine and I have been waiting for ten minutes and Claudine hates to wait."

For the third time in five minutes, Mavis sighed. Gustily this time, so gustily that she almost blew the crystal decanters filled with perfume off the top of her mirrored dressing table. "Oh, all right! We can't keep that dear girl Claudine waiting and heaven forbid that any of the other characters who will be in attendance might be inconvenienced because we aren't there yet! Give me five minutes and I'll be downstairs!"

Tyler and Brad exchanged amused glances. "What are you two smirking over?"

"Mother, you've never taken five minutes to get ready for an evening out in your entire life."

"Believe me," Mavis said acidly, "I'll be ready in three minutes for this gala event. I hardly think this dinner requires a whole lot of effort on my part. Now please get out of here so I can get dressed in peace."

Mavis rolled her eyes as her sons finally left. Two hours. That was all she planned on giving Tom Hartman, his little trollop of a girlfriend, Tiffany and her thug boyfriend and all the other kith and kin that would be gathered. Two hours tops.