They were at the top of the stairs, entering the main kitchen.  The servants were moving around stoves and granite countertops; filling trays with finger foods and busy making certain this party would be talked about for weeks to come.  Weaving through this cast of characters, Lucien used this opportunity to comfort Marisela.

“Maris...” he said,

“Have you contacted your parents?  By now--they may have heard something.”

Marisela shook her head, causing the room to spin.  She said...

“Shouldn’t have done that.”

At first, Lucien didn’t understand what she’d meant--that is, he didn’t understand until she began leaning like a snapped branch on a tree.  He steadied her, leveling her until she stood upright. He placed one hand on either side of her shoulders, guiding her to a chair.  When he helped her down, he looked into her eyes.  The sclera was bloodshot and he imagined that tomorrow, the events of this day would be a blur.  If he was right, not remembering would be a blessing in disguise.

Lucien lowered his mouth near her ear, then he said...

“Relax--I’ll get someone to take care of you.”

The Delors celebration was a wildly popular party and attendance required that the guest wear white.  The house was packed with the who’s who of societies rich and powerful people, and they were all dressed in white on white.  The room looked like a sea of clouds, dripping jewels like raindrops, and that made spotting his sister all the more difficult.  When he thought he might have to search the entire house, across the room, Lucien spotted his sister and her husband Clive.  He gestured, causing Chantel to crane her head.  After a few seconds, she noticed that her brother was pointing at Marisela.

The Delors Uptown home, was one of the families larger inner city brownstones.  The place was so large that it took up half of a city block; with a helipad on the roof. Shortly after midnight, the doors had opened, and their New Year’s Day White Ball celebration had begun.  As one of the wealthier families in the city, the Delors family were somewhat like royalty.  Lucien watched as his sister tried her best to cross the room all the while being respectful whenever she was stopped to talk to a group of people.  She would smile, then say a pleasant remark, while wishing them well, and telling them to enjoy the Ball.  One after the other, Chantel chitchatted, then excused herself until finally she was standing alongside Lucien.

Her brother wasted no time, saying...

“Chantel--could you please see to your friend.  I have an errand to run.”

Chantel looked at her brother after considering her friend.

Mildly shocked, Chantel said...

“Oh my lord--she looks a mess.  What happened to her?”

“What always happens on a day like this--the story never changes.  Overindulgence.  Liqueur can be a powerful remedy for weak-minded people”

“Lucien!  Don’t be mean.”

“She’s drunk.”

Lucien had never cared much for Marisela, but he’d always been respectful whenever they shared the same space.  In spite of his right to have his own opinion, his sister chided him.

“And for good reason--I’m only sad that I didn’t noticed the signs.  I could have prevented this from happening.”

Chantel understood her friends heartache but she had other things to consider.  Her family was hosting this Ball and she saw no need to dampen the spirits of their other guest.  On a day like today, no one wanted to witness pouting and they surely didn’t want to see a grown woman using liquor to drown her woes.  No--that just wouldn’t do.  Appearances were important, and too easily stained.

Chantel faced her brother, with her back to the crowd.  She couldn’t chance being overheard.

“Don’t worry--I’ll take care of this.  I’ll instruct someone to assist her to one of the guest bedrooms.  She’ll be out of the way--and she’ll have time to sober up--or sleep it off.”

Lucien nodded, then he walked away while thinking; problem solved.  Chantel snapped her fingers, gaining the attention of the person nearest her.  She instructed the maid to take Marisela to one of the guest bedrooms, and to remain with her, making sure that her friend rested comfortably.  With that done, Chantel hurried to catch her brother.  She hooked their arms, then joined him as he weaved through a crowd of people.

“It’s a shame Lucien.  I think Marisela’s brother has finally lost his marbles.  Who invites friends to a New Year’s Day party--then snubs them, by not even being at home.  Who does that?”

Lucien nodded and smiled at some of the guest, while creating a path wide enough for him and his sister.

He said...

“Don’t be a part of the problem Chantel.”

“And what do you mean by that?”

“Practically every person in this house has an opinion about Tollin and the fact that he brushed off his remaining friends.  The guy had a bad year and maybe he needed some time to himself.  Did you consider that?  Maybe solitude is what he wants...and can you blame him?”

She drew in close, not to be overheard when she said...

“His parents arrived at his home in Santa Barbara--but, they didn’t find anything indicating that he’d spent the night there.”

“Chantel...don’t feed into the gossip.  All of this hullaballoo floating around this house...don’t believe any of it because I don’t think any of it is true.  Can you imagine the thoughts that haunt Tollin?  Think about the images that form his dreams.  I don’t know about you, but if our places were switched, by now, I’d be a basket-case.   For goodness sake, the man was responsible for a little girl loosing her life.”

He’d not meant to sound crass because he mirrored his sisters concern.  He shared this sentiment when he asked...

“Doesn’t he moor his yacht at the marina?”

“Yes.  According to my sources, the Pettier’s are flying back to the city and one of their first stops will be at the marina.”

In the distance Lucien eyed his parents.  They were talking to the mayor and seeing them had sparked a concern.  He wondered if Marisela’s parents had notified the local police or if they’d enlisted help from some of their insider connections.

“Lucien...”

His thoughts were drawn to his sister, when he said...

“Make it quick Chantel.  If I leave now--I’ll be back in no time.”

“Where are you going in such a hurry?  Clive said that you’d gone down to the cellar, looking for a bottle of champagne.”

When he’d slipped away from the party, Lucien had thought his absence had gone unnoticed--but after running into Marisela, then hearing about his brother-in-law; he wondered who had been keeping tabs on him.

Lucien said...

“I was looking for grand-poppa's special vintage.  I didn’t see it in the cellar but I know where there is at least three bottles.”

“Where?”

“At my place.”

Chantel huffed, giving him her version of a pout.

“Lucien--what about the Ball.  You can’t leave--not yet.”

“I’m not leaving the city.  I’m just going across town.  I’ll be back so fast, no one will ever know that I’d left.”

“I’ll know...and what am I to tell momma and poppa?”

“Tell them that I’ll be back.”

“And Marisela...?”

He frowned...

“What about Marisela--she’s your guest--your friend, your problem and not mine.”

“Lucien, don’t pretend that you don’t know that she’s interested in you.  She’s worried about her brother and if something awful has happened to him, she’ll need to be consoled--and who better than you.”

“Chantel stop jumping to conclusions.  When it comes to Marisela’s brother--just say as little as possible, especially if the information isn’t substantiated.  Besides--I am not interested in her--and I think she knows this.”

“Lucien--she likes you--a lot.”

“Your friend is interested in me even though she knows that I am not interested in her.  What kind of relationship would that be?”