12) The Dinner Party

The room was thick with the energy of raw power. Not the kind that graces the cover of magazines, but unseen movers and shakers of the room. Crystal chandeliers cast warm light over the guests and through elaborate double doors was seen a long table set with white linen and silver polished to a mirror finish. Spi counted eighteen place settings, each one with an elegantly printed name card.

Richard Prescott steered her through the crowd like a proud captain showing off a new ship. "This is my muse, Spi Ralyn," he announced to a cluster of guests. "She arrived in my life yesterday and has already transformed my outlook."

Spi smiled, feeling the weight of seventeen pairs of eyes. She was glad she'd found her center in the car.

"Richard, you old charmer," cooed a woman in sapphire earrings. "You've never introduced a muse before. What exactly does she do?"

Spi answered before Prescott could. "I help people remember who they really are." Her voice was light, almost teasing. "Sometimes that's all anyone needs."

The woman laughed, charmed. "Well, I'm Margaret. And I'd love to know where you got that dress."

And so it began. For the next hour, Spi glided through the room like she was a ballroom dancer. Smooth, unhurried, graceful. Her feet barely seemed to touch the floor as she drifted through the room, meeting developers, philanthropists, two foreign dignitaries, a retired judge, a tech CEO who never smiled, and the CEO's wife who smiled too much. She learned names, remembered them, and everyone she interacted with came away with the feeling she knew them intimately and was a close friend.

The green dress was a sensation. The women gathered around her, touching the fabric, asking about the boutique, writing down the name "Evelyn" at the designer shop.

"It's jade," Spi explained, "but it changes with the light." She turned slightly so they could see the effect. "Sometimes I look down and it's deep forest, sometimes it's almost aqua."

"You have an eye," said a woman with silver-streaked hair. "Most people don't know how to wear color."

"Most people wear clothes," Spi said. "I prefer to let the clothes wear me."

The women nodded, some of them making mental notes. Spi had planted another seed and smiled as she imagined Evelyn inundated with high profile clients over the next few weeks..

Presently dinner was announced. Spi found herself between a man who imported rare spices and a woman who ran a foundation for urban gardens. Both were fascinating. But the real excitement was at the other end of the table.

Mr. Harrison, a developer with a booming voice, was locked in a heated exchange with a conservationist named Diana. Their voices rose. Other guests glanced at each other nervously. Richard's smile tightened.

"I told you," Harrison was saying, "the project is going forward. Environmental concerns are overblown. We need housing, not wetlands."

Diana's face reddened. "Overblown? That wetland filters the water for half the city! You'd pave over it for luxury condos."

The room went quiet. Everyone was watching.

Spi set down her fork and spoke quietly. "Excuse me. May I ask a question?"

Harrison turned to her, surprised. "Of course."

"Mr. Harrison, what would success look like for you in this project?"

He blinked. "Success? Getting it built. On time, on budget."

"And you, Diana? What would success look like to you?"

Diana took a breath. "Protecting the wetland. Finding a way to expand housing without destroying the city's water supply."

"This is fabulous," Spi exclaimed! Her voice was so strong and unexpected that several of the waiters jumped. One almost lost his tray full of drinks.

"Don't you see? You have an amazing opportunity here but you're both so short sighted that you're missing the big picture."

Mr. Harrison started to argue but thought better of it and closed his mouth. Diana looked at Spi. "What?" she asked simply.

"Picture this," continued Spi. "An exclusive development that partially overlooks the wetland. High end, much higher than you were planning Mr. Harrison. Potential residents have to apply to get in. The HOA has an endowment, funded by the residents, to preserve the wetland. Rights are leased to the city for water filtration, creating another revenue stream. The wetland is maintained by a paid staff as well as students from the local university. It's part of their curriculum for all students majoring in anything related to ecology, conservation or water management. It could also be a protected wildlife preserve.

The possibilities are almost endless!"

Spi beamed as she finished, then sat down.

"You'd have to work together," She added gently. "That's the hard part. But the result would be something neither of you could achieve alone."

The silence stretched. Then Harrison laughed. A surprised yet fully genuine laugh, then turned toward Diana. "This is brilliant! We've been fighting each other so long we forgot to look for ways through."

Diana smiled, the tension leaving her shoulders. "I think I could work with that."

Richard raised his glass. "To collaboration. And to my muse, who turns arguments into solutions."

The toast went around. The room lightened and was soon full of friendly conversation. Spi relaxed into her chair, feeling tingly with satisfaction.

After the soup, the main course arrived. A lamb tagine appeared before her, fragrant with spices and preserved lemon. It smelled scrumptious and as Spi took her first bite her eyes widened. The flavors - sweet, savory, tangy, exotic - exploded on her tongue.

"What is this delicacy?" she asked her neighbor.

"Moroccan lamb tagine," he said. "The chef is known for it."

Spi closed her eyes briefly, savoring. This, she thought, is why I came. Not just the grand mission. This. The small pleasures. The things that make being human worthwhile.

By the end of the meal, she was planning to ask Jonathan how to make it. Or better yet, to persuade him to make it for her.

The evening wound down with an assortment of desserts, coffee and small talk. Prescott beamed, basking in the glow of his successful party. Spi had handled everything with grace: the dress, the names, the resolution of a long time rivalry no one though could be resolved, the effortless charm.

As she prepared to leave, the silver-streaked woman from earlier pulled her aside. "I don't know who you are," she said softly, "but I've been to a hundred parties like this, and I've never seen anyone do what you did. You changed the room. Remember that."

Spi smiled. "Thank you. But I just reminded people what they already knew."

The woman squeezed her hand. "That's what the best ones do."

Jonathan was waiting at the door to escort her home.

"Ready to go m'lady?" he quipped, tipping his hat.

Spi smiled, gave a quick half curtsy and took his outstretched hand.

They descended the steps together, Spi feeling like a queen leaving a ball.

As the reached the car she asked to sit in front, and Jonathan responded by raising one eyebrow, flashing a grin, then graciously opening the passenger door.

As they pulled away from the curb Spi, still buzzing from the evening, said dreamily "such a wonderful night... does it have to be over yet?"

"Not at all m'lady," Jonathan answered and turned right, heading away from the penthouse.

Spi sunk back into the seat, thoroughly lost in the moment.