HIGH TIME

It doesn't get much better than a Wednesday afternoon late lunch at the home of Babson Hurley. And Mr. Heung and I were the only names on the guest list, so naturally we had no intent of making a late entrance. That would just be rude, and how sweet of Babson to invite me along with Mr. Heung. He's a tremendously social man, you know, but if one is not accustomed to Mr. Heung's way of communicating, well it can be dodgy, you know. Never can be sure of exactly what you've just agreed to. Now that does remind me of Silvie Pepto in my Women's Club. Silvie, as I understand it, is a tad hard of hearing, and so she is what Isabel refers to as a 'low talker'. And she's quite small, too. I swear to you she's not an inch over four foot ten on a tall day. So naturally she is a bit lower than most adults she speaks with, but it's not just her mouth area that's low, but her voice, too. Now, I would think that, being hard of hearing as she is, that she might speak up a bit, maybe even yell just to hear herself. But Isabel says that it works this way, too, and I do put great stock in what comes out of Isabel's mouth. Well, what with never really knowing what the dear girl is saying, Silvie that is, not Isabel. We all know what Isabel has to say. But Charlie says that he's afraid to even engage in a chat with Silvie. Absolutely dreadfully frightened that he might agree to do something he hadn't really intended on doing. You see, Charlie is just so agreeable, he would just nod his head politely, "yes, yes, of course" he'd say, not really knowing what he was responding to.

But the point here is that Mr. Heung is a bit of a challenge until you get the hang of it. And as positively flawless as Babson's manners are, she can't possibly be expected to know what Mr. Heung is up to when he starts running in circles and pretending to open imaginary cupboards, and such, now can she? So she was quite right in inviting me along today.

As soon as he received the invitation, Mr. Heung locked up shop and headed straight over to show me. Actually, I think he may have needed me help in translating, too, as there were not words like "size", "sale", "vintage" and "like new" on the invite, and those are really the English words that Mr. Heung is most familiar. Now, I'd received my invitation the same day. With Mr. Heung by my side, smiling and nodding away so happily as he does, I rang Babson, thanked her for her very kind invitation and asked what time we should pop round. Well, what a surprise when she suggested the same day. Well, you know, when you're someone like Babson Hurley you can be a renegade, throw protocol to the wind and what not. An exciting trend, really.

Babson Hurley is a flawless beauty. Her home, her garden and her manners all suit her to a tee. Absolutely everyone enjoys being in Babson's company, and it's not just because she has such a large home and so much money, dare I say. She just has one of those natural things that Isabel mentions and does things so well. Oh, especially parties. I'm very positive that there is no one else on The Main Line that can host an affair like Babson. And here we were, Mr. Heung and I, sitting down to a lite lunch and tea with Babson.

And do you she didn't bat an eye when Mr. Heung started bowing and pretending to dance. She nodded, smiled, clapped her hands and then stood and acted out a little routine of her own. Now to be quite honest, fan that I am of Babson's, she really has no idea what she was doing and Mr. Heung and I were both perplexed. Not a problem, we laughed and chatted and acted things out having a wonderful time.

But by the end of our stay, I began to realize that Babson actually wanted to have a word with just me. In fact, as we were leaving, Mr. Heung and I, Babson ever so gently grasped by elbow and said,

"Abigail dear, might I have a word in private?"

Well, you can imagine how important I felt, absolutely. "Yes, why of course," I told her.

Now, it seems that Babson gave quite a bit of thought to how her Daine Schratweiser turquoise necklace ended up in Mr. Heung's shop and wondered if some of the other items may have landed in the same place. I tell you, she is a smart woman. Not quite up to being an Isabel, mind you. But none the less, quite smart indeed. I shook my head yes emphatically and agreed that very well may be the case. As smart as she is, though, I don't mind telling you that I was positively shocked when Babson suggested I peak round a bit in the shop, see if I recognize anything else.

"What ever are you suggesting, Babson?" I asked her.

"Well I understand you've become quite the newspaper woman. Don't newspaper people solve a lot of crimes?" she asked me, and then added, "after all, they solved that Watergate mystery, didn't they?"

"Oh yes," I recalled, "the case with the mysterious man in the garage." We both paused, deep in thought, when I realized and said "but what about poor Mr. Heung? I really don't think he's up to this sort of thing, you know. Fencing, is that what it's called?"

"Dry cleaning, isn't it?" Babson asked, but she understood exactly what I was getting at. Mr. Heung certainly cannot afford to pay for items and then have to turn them over to the police.

And then Babson had it, a glorious idea. "I know," she said with a broad smile, "I'll buy the pieces from him and then hold an auction here on my terrace. Make it a fundraiser for the local pet rescue, why not? Everyone can just dress to the nines, but please bring the hundreds, "she laughed. And I laughed, too because she really does have such a sharp wit, that Babson. And what a smart woman, too. I tell you, the idea is brilliant and just made me feel so conspiratorial and couldn't wait to get home and tell Charlie. But first, I absolutely had to stop off at Isabel's and repeat all of the words and act out all of the charades from the day.

And then I answered some letters:

Dear Veronica,
The other night it was raining cats and dogs out, literally. In the morning, I had a broken window in my kitchen and a calico cat sitting in the middle of the floor waiting for her breakfast. Funny thing is that a bag of kitty chow was on my counter. Now, I later found that I was missing a good deal of my good silver wear. Reed and Barton, too. A few other items, all silver, are also gone. Well my husband wanted to call the police, says the burglar's been. But what if they take the cat away as evidence.
Perplexed

Dear Perplexed,
I would keep Reed Barton the cat and make do with some disposable utensils for the time. Funny thing, you're silver wear may turn up in a most unexpected place.
Veronica