Thursday March 2, 2017
Husky voiced and heart racing, Edith reached out towards Mr. Jackson. “Can I get you another drink, sir?” He didn’t hear her, or he did, and ignored her, she wasn’t sure which was worse. Someone across the room, a ravishing maven in a tight red dress, waved to him, and he walked towards her, as if floating, as if cross country skiing, across the white marble. Edith adjusted her bowtie and went into the kitchen to see if there were more appetizers to pass out. Finkelstein was already on it. He winked at her on his way out the swinging door, a massive tray in his hand of mini quiches, smoked salmon wraps.