A Lasting Impression

sunshine, but the buzz of conversation coming from the family dining room told her that would have been considered rude.
    She rounded the corner and conversation at the breakfast table fell silent.
    Even before she took her seat, she sensed an air of anticipation in the room. “Good morning,” she said quietly, seeing breakfast hadn’t yet been served.
    Good-mornings echoed around the table. Mrs. Acklen and Madame LeVert sat at one end, both of them beaming. Diddie wore a similar expression, as did the children. Cara Netta, however, had dark circles under her eyes and looked as if she’d slept about as fitfully as Claire had, or worse. Sutton, like Cara Netta, lacked the others’ exuberance too.
    He smiled, but in a way that made Claire wary. She unfolded her napkin, draped it across her lap, and scanned the faces around the table, growing more nervous by the second.
    Finally, Mrs. Acklen leaned forward. “I’ve concocted the most marvelous plan, Miss Laurent! And I think you’re going to love it!”
    Diddie wriggled in her seat, and Madame LeVert looked about ready to burst. Cara Netta glanced at Sutton with a look Claire couldn’t interpret.
    “It’s a party!” Pauline blurted, then clasped a pudgy little hand over her mouth as her brothers frowned in her direction.
    “A reception, actually.” Mrs. Acklen tossed her daughter a playfully stern smile. “In honor of Madame LeVert, and we’ll host it right here at Belmont. It will be the social event of the season! I stayed up late last night working on the guest list and the menu. And I’m eager for your ideas, Miss Laurent, on invitations and decorations and centerpieces. And then there’s the music, of course, and party favors, and . . .”
    As Mrs. Acklen continued to speak, Claire listened, her mind already churning. Maybe it was because she’d slept so little and so ill, but she couldn’t get excited about planning another huge event. Not when she needed to be painting. Yet she didn’t dare let her reaction show. After all, meeting Mrs. Acklen’s every need was her job.
    She’d barely had two weeks to plan the birthday party for forty-seven children and their parents, and the party preparations had consumed nearly every waking minute. But with the proper time to plan the reception, to choose and coordinate details—
    Claire’s thoughts screeched to a halt. She’d heard Mrs. Acklen mention a number but was certain she’d misunderstood. “Pardon me, Mrs. Acklen, but . . . how many guests did you say?”
    Mrs. Acklen tilted her head to one side as though communicating her displeasure at being interrupted. “I said one thousand, Miss Laurent. Perhaps a few more than that. . . . I’ll let you know.”
    Claire could scarcely wrap her mind around that number of people in one place. Much less in a house. And with tables and favors and centerpieces and invitations. And the cost! She looked across the table at Sutton, who gave her an almost imperceptible nod of his head, as though to say, “Stay calm.”
    “But not to worry, Miss Laurent”—Mrs. Acklen gestured to Cordina and two other women who came from the kitchen bearing breakfast—“the reception isn’t until December eighteenth. So that gives you a good seven weeks to get everything in order!”

    Seven weeks! Seated sidesaddle on Athena, Claire prodded the feisty black mare uphill, her mind churning. Seven weeks to plan a reception for over one thousand guests! “The social event of the season,” Mrs. Acklen had said.
    Claire’s head felt ready to explode.
    She’d masked her frustration well, she thought, but the moment breakfast was over, she’d made a beeline for the stables. Until Mrs. Acklen caught her in the entrance hall. “Mrs. Worthington has invited us to coffee this morning, Miss Laurent, and I felt we needed to accept, seeing as the LeVerts are leaving Belmont in the morning . . .”
    As soon as Claire heard the words, she’d begun formulating an excuse as to why she couldn’t attend. But as it turned out, she hadn’t been included. The invitation was extended to Mrs. Acklen and the LeVerts only.
    Athena bounded over the crest of the hill, and Claire reined in, breathing hard but welcoming the exertion. She hadn’t wanted to go to the silly coffee anyway. It would have meant making polite conversation on topics of no interest that she knew little to nothing about, and sipping too-weak coffee when she preferred the richness of café au lait. . . .
    She sighed.