The Party Was for the Furniture

How it begins

Alice Mercer was hired to make a sofa look as though nobody had ever needed to sit down.

The hostess wanted abundance without use. Alice had heard worse instructions, mostly from people whose furniture outlived their marriages.

She knelt beside the chaise and pulled a row of temporary stitches tight. Beyond the open doors, waiters carried glasses into the garden. A band tested three notes and decided money would improve the rest.

The invitation on the carpet read A FAREWELL TO BEAUTIFUL THINGS. Alice had assumed this was a fashionable description of summer. Then she saw the numbered tags beneath the chairs.

'Is this an auction?' she asked.

The hostess looked toward the door. 'A private opportunity.'

'For whom?'

'People who appreciate provenance.'

Alice touched the chaise's repaired arm. Its provenance included a leaking roof, a small dog and somebody's expensive carelessness with a cigar. She had improved the story considerably.

A man entered carrying a notebook. His evening jacket was correct, but his shoes suggested he had walked from the tram.

'Thomas Vale,' he said. 'The Gazette. I was told the farewell had a charitable purpose.'

'Everything has a charitable purpose now,' the hostess said. 'It reassures people.'

She left before he could ask another question.

Thomas noticed the tag beneath the sofa. He did not write anything.

'What are they selling?'

Alice stood and rubbed her knees. 'An impression of having always owned it.'

From the hall came a brief argument, quickly lowered. A maid stood beside the steward's desk with an envelope open in her hand. Alice recognized the expression. She had worn it over her own unpaid invoice for six weeks.

Thomas followed her gaze.

'Perhaps,' he said, 'there is a charitable purpose after all.'

Alice tucked her needle into its case. If anyone intended to auction her work, she wanted to know who would finally be paid.