Mabel "Bibi" Hill

Restaurant: Layers Bistro and Bakery

Lei: Spanish magdalenas, thick Spanish chocolate

Jade: Giant chocolate eclair, licorice and lavender tea

Bibi: Carrot cake with cold glass of milk

Topic: This and that

Jade and I felt like an afternoon tea so we stopped at our favorite bistro/bake shop to order some pastries. Jade was the only one who ended up with a cup of tea. It’s a beautiful afternoon---a little dark and cloudy, with the aroma of rain sweetening the air that we enthusiastically breathed in deeply and deliberately. I asked myself why the grass looked so much greener when rain is imminent and why everything seems to teem with life. Maybe it’s just my imagination. Or not.

Mabel, who goes by Bibi, is a short woman with a squat physique. She is neither fat nor skinny, neither muscular nor thick. I’d say she’s robust and strong. Her tanned skin is leathery and there are a couple of baggy folds under her eyes--two under her right eye and three under her left, to be precise. Her light brown hair is cut bluntly at chin level but you’d never know that because her hair is in a perennial ponytail. She married a banker who belongs to a prominent family from Chicago.

Bibi is wearing a complete light green and gray Nike ensemble -- from her work-out mesh T-shirt, matching athletic trousers and jacket to her socks and shoes. She practically lives in the sports club. She is there at least twice a day, seven days a week. She has a trainer in the early morning and repeats her work-out regimen alone in the afternoon. I am surprised that she is neither muscular nor super thin.

I know a binger when I see one. She is also a cutter---but a careful one though not careful enough for me to spot. I used to be one. That was a million years ago. But I digress.

Bibi doesn't talk much and her thoughts are transparent to me. She is feeling guilty about the carrot cake. She is thinking that she'll have to add an extra half hour on the elliptical machine. She takes her first bite and I see a hint of "yummy" in her eyes. That sort of broke the sadness that lived in them.

"So how are you doin', Bibi? It's been such a while."

"Doing good."

I know that six months ago, the police and paramedics were parked in front of her house. I also know that her husband moved out of the house that night....for a couple of weeks anyway. And I also know that he has a mean streak about him. It would seem easier to explain his behavior if alcohol were involved. Or drugs. But that's not the case. His is a sad case of plain and simple anger gone awry.

Jade begins the conversation.

"So, how are the kids?"

"They're doing well. Ashley's going to be a sophomore next year. The twins are going to junior high."

"So, do you work out a lot? I see you running early in the morning long before the rest of my family wakes up. Are you preparing for another marathon?"

"Oh, I just dabble here and there. Running relaxes me."

It's like pulling teeth with Bibi. There's a lot of awkward silences. And so I tried to regale her with stories of my poor attempt at tennis lessons from the health club tennis pro.

Bibi manages to smile and attempts some light-hearted banter with me and Jade.

"You have to try again, Lei. Don't let tennis elbow ruin it for you. Tennis is a fun game!"

"Bib, do you know how many times I've tried tennis? A total of 5 attempts. Every single time, something bad happens to me. The first time I attempted it when I was 12 was a disaster. My skirt popped open and my toes got blisters. This last time, I had to have physical therapy on my arm for three whole months! No, tennis is not for me."

"You just have to keep on pluggin' along, Lei. It may not seem like a good thing right now, but later, the game will grow on you and you'll feel like you can control the game. It's a worthwhile goal to be good at tennis. It's a social game. You meet new people and nevermind the physical benefits."

Jade and I exchanged knowing glances. We were on the same wave length.

"Well, I just think that there is a point where you just need to realize that you're in the wrong sport and need to find something else worthwhile."

"No, Lei. When you make a decision, you have to stick to it. Why did you choose tennis instead of swimming or basketball? Because you looked around and after careful study decided on your own that tennis is the best game for you, right?"

I wasn't sure what Bibi meant.

"Not really. I wanted to learn tennis because everybody I knew was playing it. And it looks like a lot of fun. Plus, I like the cute outfits."

I was trying to be funny. But Bibi was getting impassioned.

"So obviously, you gave it much thought, then. That's why, you stick it out. See it through. Even if it turns out badly. Even if it seems like the game doesn't want you. Even if it hurts. You just have to see it through. You just can't give up so easily"

Bibi was getting pretty emotional at this point. And I was starting to feel uncomfortable.

"Bibi---are we still talking about tennis?"

Bibi's face was now red and it was obvious that she was trying very hard not to cry. We all knew what she was trying to say. Not knowing how to proceed, I sheepishly opened my mouth--fearful that she may indeed break down and start telling us her real problem.

"There's a lot more sports than just tennis. I mean, I can take up Polynesian dancing again. It's quite a work-out, you know. Maybe I can still get my boobs to fill a half a coconut."

"Yeah, Lei. Just make sure they're young coconuts."

Jade was trying to be funny as well.

By this time, Bibi has regained her composure. It was an awkward moment and most of the conversation was supplied by Jade and me -- a very adequate attempt to help Bibi settle down. By the the time I felt susceptible to another order of pastries, Bibi stood up ready to run her errands.

Jade and I stayed a little longer---just long enough to talk about our usual woes and to cheer each other up for another week. We also decided that there's more to Bibi that we need to figure out.

I was also curious that neither Jade nor I had the usual propensity to goad someone like Bibi to go ahead and tell us what was REALLY going on inside her. It was as if we didn't want to know. And if that were the case, why not? Was it because we didn't want to get involved? Were we too lazy to offer any kind of comfort or safe harbor from her burdens?

A mid-afternoon tea just isn't going to cut it. We need to invite her to lunch.

Beth Jones-Benson

Restaurant: Mariposa at Neiman Marcus

Lei: Portobello and Goat Cheese Napoleon: Layered with grilled eggplant arugula and roasted garlic. Finished with a red pepper coulis and scallion oil.
Jade: Applewood Grilled Salmon: On greens with toasted pecans, champagne papaya vinaigrette and Sonoma goat cheese.
Beth: Smoked Duck Salad: With pear, gorgonzola, walnuts and chipotle orange citronette.

Topic: Town Bric-a-brac


Beth Benson is an attractive middle-aged woman. She apparently ran for Miss Wyoming towards the end of her senior year in high school and made the finals though she did not place. Nevertheless, she makes sure that little history comes up in polite conversations. She is a lovely woman, with a lovely smile, cascading brown hair and a perky personality that makes one automatically drawn to her. She gives me the impression that she once was the "popular girl" on her high school campus---the proverbial "it" girl. Now in her late 40s, she constantly wails about battling those extra 20 pounds on her hips and thighs though she still looks good for her age.

Jade and I happened to be foraging at Neiman-Marcus. We weren't planning to buy anything but we sure were having a great time trying on some ridiculously overpriced designer shoes that we had no intention of buying even at 30% off, when we spotted Beth walking by. In the past, Jade wanted so badly to be Beth's friend. That didn't happen. Though Jade will deny it, I think Beth was just too threatened by Jade.

While Beth was short, Jade was tall and lean and while Beth tried very hard to look and sound like a 'valley girl' and at times called too much attention to herself, Jade was naturally olive-skinned with a very regal bearing-- she had a quiet, dignified manner. Beth was the kind of girl who grabbed one's attention. Jade the was kind of girl who doesn't grab. She just attracts quietly. Beth is all shiny and bright. Jade is all regal and mysterious. And because Jade was also a kind human being, she invited Beth to lunch with us.

I did not want to lunch with Beth. Like the cliched popular girl, Beth has her posse of other "popular girls" now in their 40s. They like to do things together--and when they do, if they don't talk about interior decorating or the latest cosmetic or fashion alerts from Vogue or Cosmopolitan, they like to talk about people. And when Beth talks, she has a way of making things sound....sordid.

"Have you heard about the Deveres?"

I mutter an "uh-oh" under my breath and Jade takes over.

"No."

"I'm really worried about Jan Devere. She clearly has been acting strange lately. I think we need to cheer her up. There's been so much going on with her. If you promise to leave everything you hear on this table, I'll tell you all about it and we can figure out how to help"

I had a mental image of crap being spewed on the table that is now about to host our lunch.

"They're selling their house---you know, the huge one. Rumor has it that they're broke."

I have to admit that I started getting curious. Beth proceeded to talk about how the Deveres have been losing a bunch of money on poor investments and overspending---the usual malady that affects so many of the nouveau riche in our little suburban village. Curiously, Beth neglected the part where we need to "help" her.

This is how Beth prefaces her latest news. The look of concern on her face is always de rigeur. And the need to figure out a solution is always the goal for propagating the news.

"And you know about the Turners, right? He moved out of the house. Greta tells me that they've had problems for some time now. I just love Greta but, one has to admit that she lets the kids walk all over her and....."

Blah-blah blah. I can sense that Jade was starting to get irritated.

Somehow, when Beth talks about other people, one gets mesmerized by her sweet face and the concerned, hushed tones of her voice. The corners of her eyes lift up as if she were an angel. That's the insidious part of it all. Although Beth does want to care about others, the intoxicating need to be the center of attention is what motivates her need to feign concern over the subjects of her conversation. She is what one would call "an angel of gossip".

There was a slight lull in the conversation---the kind you know will lead to something bad.

"So Jade---I saw Fitz last week. Twice, in fact. He looked very...."

I could scarcely hold my breath.

"....preoccupied.

Jade knew that Beth was fishing for something. And Beth was about to be out-witted and out-played.

"Well....Beth....things have been very difficult with us lately. We've had some very serious...problems."

Beth drew her face close to Jade in a gesture of intimacy and concern.

"I'm so sorry, Jade. It must be hard for you. How are you coping?'

Jade heaved a sigh.

"I'm okay. But it's good to get things off my chest with good friends around."

"You can count on me, Jade. When I saw Fitz both times yesterday, he looked swollen and disheveled. He looked like he'd been spending the nights in his office. I mean, he hadn't shaved and the second time I saw him, he had at least a 4 day growth. And I didn't want to mention this but do you know he's stopped wearing his wedding ring? I'm just shocked. Kris, Lisa and I have been talking about it wondering and worrying about you. I hate to ask, but Kris thinks that he's seeing another woman. Is this true?"

Egads. The three beauty queens of gossip. Kris Hunley, Lisa Barrett and Beth Jones-Benson. All ex-popular girls of long ago in varying degrees of cosmetic procedures---all of them wishing they had married someone like Jade's John Fitzgerald Orton. Good ol' Fitz.

And I could feel a left hook coming from nowhere.

Jade didn't say a word. Then she feigned bewilderment. Then pain. Then, in a slow, deliberate pace--with a very hushed, gentle voice, Jade prepared her hook.

"What the hell are you talking about Beth? For the past three weeks, Fitz has been worried sick about a huge land deal that he thought he may lose. We've invested so much of our time and money in it---we just couldn't afford to lose it. So he's been working at his office day and night. That's what I was talking about. I've been so worried sick about him."

POW! A hard left hook and a TKO. Score for Jade. Beth is on the floor. One....two.....three......

"But don't worry, Beth. Things are finally turning around. Fitz is just a charmer. To tell you the truth, he finally shaved this morning! And oh...yeah, he hasn't worn his ring because he got so swollen and the ring was irritating his skin. Since he's been eating better, the swelling has gone and so...well, he's all nice, smooth and "ringed".

Jade is in her element. I sat back and toyed with the idea of ordering dessert even if Jade and I swore we'd forego the creme brulee.

"Oh Jade, I'm so relieved we were wrong! I hope you understand that we just all love you and are concerned about you. We were sure we were imagining the whole deal. Oh....that's so wonderful that everything worked out"

What? No apology? The nerve of that banshee. She's busted and she knows it. I counted to 10 and she was still on the floor.

"That's alright, Beth. I knew your heart was in the right place."

Confound it! Now Jade is making me mad.

"Shall we order dessert, Jade? Creme brulee or the warm flourless chocolate cake a la mode?"

I was trying to tell her to stop it. I think Jade was gloating.

Lunch ended pretty much on that note. We didn't have dessert as Jade had planned. I didn't care. It was HER day.

And Beth? Oh no---she would not be invited to lunch again.

Kiki Krugman

Restaurant: Passages

Leilani: Shrimp and Crab Avocado, Whiskey Bread Pudding a la mode

Jade: Blackened Salmon Salad, NO avocado, no dessert

Kiki: Cobb Salad with Chicken, dressing on the side. Hold the bacon. Halve the eggs. Double the onions. Lemon-Caramel Cake a la mode, whipped cream on the side, hold the raspberries, "can you please substitute strawberries instead?" and "drizzle some chocolate syrup on top of the ice cream?".

Topic: We have no idea. Kiki's been prattling.

Kiki likes to talk a lot. She has interesting ticks that make watching her entertaining. For instance, she likes to touch her upper lip with her forefinger and then have a questioning look on her face at the end of her sentences. She has huge, teacup blue eyes that she likes to open wide, making her look somewhat innocent or child-like...though the dichotomy between that expression and her somewhat wrinkly face simply exaggerated her age. She has crooked teeth that were once bleached white but have now turned yellow again. Her hair is naturally curly but she likes to iron it straight and won't wash her hair until it's absolutely dirty and greasy. She likes to wake up early to clean her house...daily. There is a place for everything in her immaculately clean and tidy house and she has no compunction about throwing out anything that doesn't have a place to roost.

Kiki is also Jade's pilates teacher. If there's anything that Kiki can do well, it's counting calories. All she has to do is look at food and she can tell you with 98% accuracy how many calories one is about to consume.

And so, Jade and I wait in our places, ready to order while Kiki peruses the menu very carefully. She is very perky. For someone who's a compulsive exerciser, Kiki is inlove with food. She studies every item on the menu, asking impertinent questions that neither Jade nor I can answer. Jade glances at me through the menu as Kiki fires off her questions at the poor waiter. She signals at me and I realize that I needed to close my gaping mouth.

"You guys, do you think I should order the pasta? I wonder if they really know how to make a proper white sauce. You guys, I'm afraid to order the creme brulee 'coz the custard might be too thick. Hmmm....You guys, I don't like curly endive... do you think they can pick it out of the mesclun salad? You guys, what if the bananas are overcooked? You guys, do you think they make the cake from scratch?"

And so on ad nauseum. "You guys."

After she finally decided on the Cobb Salad, asked several questions about the dressing, if she can substitute vinagrette for the ranch dressing, if the greens contained curly endive, and on and on, the clearly exasperated but patient waiter took our orders. I have to admit I was a bit embarrassed by her demeanor. She was talking like a ditzy airhead dressed in a white T-shirt under a denim jumper and sockless Keds.

We talked about stray cats, her disdain for shopping and her stuffed bear collection--all of which, neither Jade nor I had any interests in pursuing. We listened trying hard to appear intrigued.

"I also like to read books."

Finally! A passion Jade and I both possess. As she shovels a forkful of greens in her mouth, I made a quick remark.

"Jade just finished reading Elie Wiesel's new book 'Night' and she raves about it. After I finish reading 'Dispatches from the Edge', I'd very much like to read it too."

Then with much excitement, Jade begins to explain what the book is about. We all listen with great interest.

"Kiki, what books do you like to read?"

"Oh I like to read children's books."

"You mean, like, Harry Potter or Anne of Green Gables?"

"Well, yeah, but I like Dr. Seuss books."

Jade and I paused for a bit, confused that perhaps Dr. Seuss had other books for the more 'mature' readers that we didn't know about.

"Really? Like which of his books is your favorite?"

"I have several I like but I guess if I had to pick one, it would be 'Green Eggs and Ham. I read it over and over."

As she prattled on and on about Dr. Seuss and his volumes, Kiki began to dig into my salad with her fork and lifted a lump of shrimp and avocado--I was saving the best parts of my salad for last. I watched as part of my salad disappeared into her mouth. Taken aback, I froze for a minute disbelieving what I just saw. Then Kiki dipped her fork into Jade's salmon and took a chunk of it into her mouth. That's when Jade stopped eating her lunch. I, on the other hand, hurriedly finished the last couple of bites. I'll be damned if Kiki takes another shrimp from my plate!

Kiki began discussing her Kinkade collection and recipes that she had collected through the years. Jade and I tried to appear as enthusiatic about the subject matters but Kiki mostly did the talking.

Ordering dessert was a whole new experience for me. After a long quiet lull in the conversation while Kiki studied the dessert menu, all the while muttering more questions to herself----or maybe for us to answer, she finally decided on the Lemon-Caramel Cake.

"Is that served a la mode?"

"No, ma'am. It has a rich ricotta and whipped cream topping."

"Well. Can you just have them put half the amount of that topping and then top it with a scoop of vanilla ice cream?"

"I'm sure that won't be a problem ma'am."

"What kind of garnish do you put around the plate?"

"Some raspberries and blueberries."

"Can you substitute strawberries instead?"

"I'll let the chef know, ma'am."

I could tell the waiter was getting annoyed. Kiki was clearly oblivious to this fact.

"Oh...I changed my mind. Can you just scrape the topping off altogether and put it on the side?"

"Ma'am the topping comes with the cake but I'll personally scrape it off the top if that's what you'd like."

"Well, ok. Just scrape off half and can you bring me some more whipping cream on the side and can you drizzle more caramel on the cake?"

"I'll do what I can, ma'am."

Of course, Jade and I were simply speechless and unable to put a stop to the insanity. To protest, Jade didn't order dessert. When the desserts came, Jade and I had nothing more to discuss with Kiki. We really didn't need to. She did most of the talking.

After Kiki ate her dessert and most of mine, Jade suddenly remembered that she had a 2:00 dentist appointment. After Jade tipped the waiter an extra $20 to atone for Kiki's impertinence, we stood out in the parking lot for a few minutes to say our good-byes. Jade and I waited for her to drive out into the street.

I hurriedly said good-bye to Jade, mindful that her dental appointment was only 10 minutes away.

"Good grief, Lei, I don't have to see Dr. Neslin! For Pete's sake, let's go shopping!"

From the look on Jade's face, I knew what she was thinking.

Kiki would never be invited to lunch again.

Florence Whipple

Restaurant: The Original Pancake House

Jade: Apple Pancake, Hot Chocolate with whipped cream on the side

Leilani: French Crepes, Hot Chocolate with whipped cream on top

Florence: Plain egg-whites-only omelette, dry whole wheat toast, cranberry juice

Topic: Pearls

I was trying not to gag when Florence ordered brunch after her careful study of each item on the menu. We wouldn't have invited her to join us but we needed to discuss the details of our book club meeting. Florence was the founder and hostess of our ladies' book club and it was our turn to help Florence with the hors d'œuvre and hosting 'privileges'. We were new to the group and we wanted to make a good impression.

Florence is a tall and slender woman in her early forties. She has that airy patrician look: blond, albeit chemically enhanced, chin length hair, aquiline nose, high cheek bones, long swan-like neck and long, sinewy arms. At times she claims to have been born into a wealthy family from Marin County. At times, her snippy comments implied that she had a difficult, "humble middle-class" life--implying that she 'used to be' just like the rest of the world. She married into a family of seven sons, Mortimer, her husband, being the fourth.

The Whipples are a family of accomplishment and are very well-respected and well-known. All of the Whipple boys sing and were the legends of the high school band. All have trophy wives and the requisite number of children who have mostly inherited blue eyes, long bodies and angular features. All live in prestigious hamlets of suburbia--Cardiff-by-the-Sea, Madison Park in Bellevue, Scottsdale... The Whipple boys are either lawyers, bankers or doctors---except for Morty who works for a large retail company and 'only' has a Bachelors in Business. Which is where the problem stems. Keeping up with the rest of the family proved too much for Morty.. . and especially, Florence. It was important for her to "look and sound" wealthy. It simply is a case of trying-too-hard of which, many of us can be guilty of.....sometimes. For Florence, it was a job 24/7. And she worked hard. The cracks were beginning to show.

"That's a lovely necklace you're wearing Lei. Are they Tahitian black pearls?"

Florence liked to intimate that she was a connoisseur of fine jewelry. Unfortunately for her, so was I. Incidentally, I was wearing a lovely set of layered "pearl" necklaces that I got at a reduced rate of $35.00 at the spa where I got a lovely mani-ped.

"Florence, you know I never wear fakes!"

I think I detected some drool on Florence's chin.

"Did you get those in Hong Kong?"

I think Florence has always been intrigued by that part of me that was Asian even if she knows I was born and raised in Kailua, Hawaii.

"Actually, my husband got these from a friend who travels to Papeete often. You know of course, that black pearls are a lot cheaper in Tahiti. You can save yourself at least a couple of hundred dollars."

Florence was beginning to annoy me. Jade, on the other hand, had a huge grin on her face to compensate for the laugh that she was trying very hard to subdue.

"How much do you think a Tahitian black pearl pendant would cost if your friend can get one for me?"

If Jade doesn't compose herself, I am going to get myself in heaps of trouble.

"Well, Florry, it would just depend on the quality of the pearl."

I began to tell her about pearls: the thickness of the nacre, clues and rules to know about their sheen and lustre, grades, surface, color, saltwater and fresh water pearls, their shapes, how they match.. Florence began to stare at my fake pearls.

"Lei, let me take a closer look at your pearls. I'd like to see what you're talking about."

"Listen. I can't take my pearls off right now, if you don't mind. Besides, my husband put these on me this morning and only he can take them off."

Jade simply erupted with laughter and snorting. I looked at her incredulously and began to laugh as well. Florence, on the other hand, looked confused. We were just horrible.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh just a private joke between me and Jade."

"Are you sure? I'd like to know."

"Florence, don't worry about it. We're just being stupid."

The rest of the brunch was just an exercise in small talk. Florence seemed animated a few times especially when we talked about Mortimer, his promotion and the new VW bug that he bought for her. We asked her a lot of questions and made sure we complimented her on the important things: her hair, her shoes, her outfit. After a brief conversation about the bookclub and our assignments, Florence excused herself and begged off to run to another engagement.

"Well that went well." Jade said. I agreed. But somehow, there was something about Florence that disturbed me though I just couldn't figure out what it could be. Until late into that afternoon.

*************
I was just getting into my reading when the phone rang. It was Mortimer Whipple.

"Hello? Lei? How are you?"

"I'm doing well, Mort. Did you want to talk to Jim?"

"No, I wanted to talk to you."

He sounded very cordial and polite. Perhaps, too polite. And very measured.

"What planet did you come from?"

I thought I heard wrong. It was beginning to feel surreal.

"What?"

"I said, what planet did you come from?"

Something malevolent suddenly hit me and I could feel my skin bristling--a visceral reaction that signals imminent danger. Other than the thumping of my heart as adrenalin surged through my system, I remained silent.

"Did you poke fun at my wife?"

Later, I would find out through a mutual friend that Florence had called her husband in tears telling him how we mistreated her and called her names.

"Listen, Lei. If you ever come close to any member of my family, I am going to come after you with everything I've got."

I was incredulous.

"Mort, is that a threat? Did you just threaten me?"

"You better believe it!"

The rest of the conversation was just bizarre. I thought I was in a bad murder mystery movie starring Martha Stewart. Here was someone's husband, threatening someone else's wife. There was a coldness, a disconnect in his voice. It was menacing and calculated. I could not, for the life of me, intellectually and emotionally connect Mortimer's menacing phonecall with the quiet, friendly Mortimer that everybody knew. It was as if he had shown me a part of him that no one ever saw. I suddenly got the heebie-jeebies.

There is more to the story. Like a knight in shining armor, my Jim got involved. Mortimer demurely confesses to Jim that what he did was classless. Mortimer calls me later to apologize as if he were his old charming self again. Everybody has moved on and the Whipples continue their charming ways as the rest of our neighborhood fawn over them just because they are the Whipples. Florence struts about town still trying very hard to live up to being a suburban trophy wife with all the accoutrements of suburbia-dom. And Mortimer continues to posture, trying desperately to prove his importance. But Mortimer knows that I hold the secret of who he really is...or who he can become. That brief but starkly threatening phone call defined what kind of a man lurks inside his charming demeanor and implicitly manifests the possibility that Florence may be a simmering pot of emotional stew ready to boil over anytime someone sprinkles salt over her. That I am the sole witness and victim of his malevolence renders me locked in a victim's prison where no one can fully appreciate the insidious duplicity of a charming man with a subtle veneer of malice.

When I see Mortimer or Florence, they pretend not to see me. I play along.

And screw the book club.

Florence would NOT be invited to lunch again.

Winnie Kuykendahl

Restaurant: Brasserie Bhuvi

Leilani: Yellow Fin Tuna Tataki Salad with Avocado, Lemongrass Creme Brulee

Jade: Grilled New Zealand Sea Bass with Black Truffle Vinaigrette, Warm Croissant Bread Pudding with Dulce de Leche Ice Cream

Winnie: Free Range Chicken with Mango Chutney, White Chocolate Truffle Cake with Passionfruit Glacee

Topic: Miscellany

Winnie is half-Vietnamese and half-Belgian. She is a stout, short woman with little feet and a bulbous nose. She has little beady eyes that she accents with thick, dark green eye-liner and mascara. Her hair nearly matches the color of corn silk with a tinge of violet. I am convinced that the woman has rosacea because her skin appears sunburned all the time. Though she buys her clothes at the nearby chichi boutiques, she somehow looks like she just came out of the neighborhood thrift shop. Yeah--the one by the liquor store. Now that may not sound very exotic but for some odd reason, men find her appealing. I don't get it. But I accept it. Maybe because in my heart of hearts, I know she's found some mojo voodoo spell that lures men into thinking that she's all that. I, on the other hand, don't need any mojo spells. Humph!

Jade and I have decided that we need to "widen our friendship circle' and invite others to lunch. So far, we haven't found anyone worthy of being a permanent third lady who can do lunch with us. Tsk tsk.

Jade starts to tell her about my gardening fiasco. A few months ago, when I was not depressed, I fancied that I could be a "gardening Martha". (Someone really should come up with a Martha Stewart doll...) Jade and I went shopping after lunch at the Bon Jour Cafe. After a quick meal of assorted crepes, we happened upon a quaint gardening shop. With great hopes and enthusiasm, I purchased a pair of bright yellow gardening clogs, a set of garden tools and a couple of trays of colorful annuals. I chattered excitedly for most of that afternoon while Jade laughed at all my clever jokes.

The next day, I donned what I deemed to be my happiest "gardening" outfit complete with dainty, flowered, cotton gloves, a matching apron and my most lusciously brimmed staw hat. I had watched a hundred gardening shows on HGTV so I was very confident that planting annuals would be a cinch. I had never before embarked on this highly domestic feat.

I was in a state of panic when Jade answered my phone call.

"Jade!" I was sobbing as I tried to control my mortification.

"What? Slow down...what's wrong? Is it Jim? The kids? What's wrong?"

I continued to sob.

"Eh....Eh...Earthworms!"

You have to understand that Jade is a kind-hearted soul. She loves animals. She is tender and sweet to her pets. She has no mean bone in her body. She loves to work in the garden. She understood immediately what had happened. She had chided me before about my inability to walk on grass barefoot because I did not want to touch "cooties" who might be living in the grass. And she knew about my aversion....no, abnormal fear of earthworms, snakes or millipedes. She had assured me that I would find no earthworms in the earth when I dig the holes. But what neither she nor I would anticipate is what laid in wait for me when I turned the little pot over to release the annuals: two, big FAT earthworms curled around the roots covered with moist soil! After a shriek of surprise and mortification, I dropped the plant and pot on my glass patio table, making a huge mess topped with the fat worms who now appeared longer and hostile to me. I gave myself up to panic. That's when I ran to the kitchen to phone Jade.

Winnie looked at me with her beady eyes now round like oversized buttons with dark green lines across the top. Then she looked at Jade.

"Did you think that was stupid?"

"Well...no. I just drove over and helped her plant her flowers."

I could tell that she was incredulous that Jade would do that for me. Winnie had always been intimidated by Jade's polished and attractive appearance. And once, she told me that I intimidated her because she found me articulate and intelligent.

"Why would you be afraid of something like that? You need to get over that."

A cold pause changed the density of the air. Winnie suddenly felt superior.

She would no longer be invited to lunch.

Leilani "Keolakaonua" Hochhalter and Jade Orton

Restaurant: A little French bistro.

Jade: Smoked salmon, cream cheese and cucumber on French baguette.

Leilani: French ham with brie on sourdough baguette.

Jade nixes ordering dessert. She is being supportive of my latest attempt to lose weight. We arrive early for lunch but the small bistro is already half full. I am wishing I had ordered the pasta.

Our charming waiter, a delicate wisp of a young man tells us he used to be a dancer at some avant garde show in Las Vegas. I wonder why he isn't anymore. He has a very thick French accent and moves very gracefully. I notice that he has very slim, feminine fingers. I ask which part of France he is from. He is from Montreal. I feel duped. It's like finding out the Louis Vuitton bag that you bought in Honolulu at full retail was a Hong Kong knock-off. I am NOT impressed. But not as horrified at the fact that I couldn't distinguish real French accent from a Montreal accent. Okay, so I don't speak French. But I should. Details.

For seven years, Jade has been intimating the same problem over and over---that is, over lunch. Two evil step-sons. One tall, good-looking, charming RICH husband who seems to have lost total perspective over fathering these little demons effectively. The problem is, the little demons are now 18 and 21. Fat chance.

Fitz is Jade's second husband. Yes, that's short for Fitzgerald. Obviously, his parents were Kennedy-philes. Fitz's name is a product of playground politics instigated by some cruel bully who will grow up overweight, with yellow teeth and wearing dirty overalls to work. The name simply stuck on poor John Fitzgerald Orton who would grow up to be a real estate developer and one of the richest men in the big city. Of course, as fate would have it, Jade wasn't always Jade. Maxine, Jade's mother, married seven times, fancied herself a hippie and named her 2nd daughter, Precious. Precious has been Jade for well over 20 years now---since she decided to reinvent herself and get married at 16 to a Paul Newman clone. Unfortunately, Mr. Paul Newman clone acted more like Tony Soprano. THe point is, Jade has been Jade for far too long to be Precious. And we do lunch together. Every week.

I'd like to write about our adventures in lunching. Yeah. It's mind-boggling.