Day would have been fitting, but it’s passed.” He sighed. “What about the weekend before the Fourth of July? We could have fireworks at night.”
Ella might not have planned any parties, but three weeks to prepare seemed doable. Until she asked, “How many guests will there be?”
“Six, maybe seven hundred.”
Her mouth went slack. A party for sixty would have left her panicked. How on earth was she going to pull off a party for six or seven hundred? And in less than a month?
“Uncle Elliot, be reasonable.”
“I am being reasonable. If I’m going out, I’m going out with a bang. What do you say, Ella?”
“Well, the, um, timeline is a little tight for a gathering of that size.”
“You’re right.”
She relaxed until Elliot said, “Let’s push it to August. My Isabella died in August. August twenty-seventh.” His expression dimmed. In a bewildered voice, he asked, “Can it really be three years?”
“I’m sorry,” Ella told him.
“I couldn’t have started my company without her. She was my rock.”
The race cars whizzed past on the span of track that wound under Elliot’s desk. Just that quickly, his attention was diverted. He clapped his hands together, eyes once again bright, and crowed, “My red car is still in the lead! Have your ten dollars handy, Ella. There are only three laps left.” Afterward, he scratched his head. “Now, where were we?”
“The guest list,” she prompted, still feeling dazed.
“Right. Definitely seven hundred. In addition to friends and family, I have a lot of acquaintances in business and the community at large who will want to pay their respects.” He snorted before adding, “And my competitors will want to come and dance on my grave. The media, too.”
“Media?” Chase asked, sounding alarmed.
“That’s right. I plan to invite reporters from several news sources, both tabloid and mainstream. You can’t keep those vultures out anyway. I might as well open the doors and the bar to them. That way, they won’t be circling in helicopters overhead.”
“Isn’t that the truth?” she replied, thinking of her father’s treatment by some so-called journalists. She glanced up to find Chase studying her. Clearing her throat, she asked Elliot, “Do you have a location in mind, then?”
“My house. Estate, I guess is more accurate. It’s in the Hamptons. We could set up tents. The grounds are quite expansive.” He chuckled. “I just happened to think, the name of my estate is The Big Top. What about Three Ring Circus for the theme?”
“I thought the theme was Irish wake,” Chase and Ella said at the same time.
“Right, right.” Elliot nodded. “What if it’s both? What do you think, Ella?”
She nibbled her lower lip to give herself a moment to think. A circus-themed wake for a man who wasn’t dying? For the first time since seeing Elliot’s call, she wondered if perhaps Madame Maroushka had gotten her palm confused with someone else’s.
“Well?” Elliot prodded.
“While there is nothing wrong with a party that has two distinct themes, marrying them can become, um, tricky. That’s especially true when they are so, um, so...different,” she finished, hoping to sound authoritative even if she was making things up as she went along.
“But it can be done?” Elliot asked hopefully.
Uh-oh.
“It can be. But it would take a lot of planning. Months, say, to do it right. Are you willing to wait that long?”
“No.” He sighed.
Ella nearly did, too.
“I suppose that answers that question,” Chase said. He looked as relieved as Ella felt. Then he asked, “May I make a suggestion, Uncle?”
“By all means.”
“If you are determined to have a party, why don’t you go with the circus theme and save the wake idea for another time?”
Elliot scratched his head. “I don’t know. I really want to have a wake. Ella?”
She’d already done some research on wakes. Besides, she had a clown phobia, and was pretty sure any big top-type bash the size Elliot wanted would have to include at least a few of the painted-faced performers.
“The circus theme is overdone.”
“What?” Chase asked at the same time Elliot said, “I should have known.”
“An Irish wake will be very, um, cutting edge.”
Chase gaped at her as if she’d grown a second head. “Really?”
“Really. This is the first one I’ve ever planned,” she added truthfully.
“She should know, Chase,” Elliot said. “She’s the expert.”
Ella worked up a smile that she hoped didn’t reveal her newbie-ness.
“Look, Uncle Elliot, you claimed you want my opinion, so I’m offering it. Throwing a party right now—”
“A wake,” Elliot corrected.
“That only makes it a bigger mistake. Calling it that will feed the rumor mill.”
Elliot shook his head, his expression patient, but still resigned. “I appreciate your input, my boy. Really, I do. But if I am going to be turned out of the company I started, I will do it on my own terms.”
“But a wake?”
Elliot looked every year of his age when he replied, “It’s fitting. What is forced retirement but another form of death for someone like me?”
The whir of the race cars broke the stretch of silence that followed. Elliot’s sober expression brightened when the little vehicles shot into view.
“Ella! Look! Your fortunes have changed. I think you’re going to win the race!”
He hurried over to the ladder, arriving at the top step just in time to wave the checkered flag. As he’d predicted, the blue car marked with number seventy-seven was the first to cross the finish line.
“Congratulations, young lady!” To Chase, he said, “Pay her for me, will you, my boy? Our wager was for ten dollars.”
Chase stood to retrieve his wallet from the rear pocket of his pants. He pulled two fives from his billfold and handed them to her. Afterward, he didn’t return to his seat. He paced to the window, where he stood, arms crossed, back to the room, a quiet yet imposing presence whose mood she could not quite gauge. He wasn’t angry. That much she could tell. Frustrated? Perhaps. But something else was going
