Skinnydipping (37 page)

“I arranged the centerpiece!” said Katie.

“I was responsible for that centerpiece, neither of you did anything,” said Sadie.

“I don’t know if I would claim credit for that centerpiece,” said Alice, from behind Sybil.

“What did you do in this challenge, Nadine?” Sybil asked.

“Not only did I arrange everything tastefully but I was able to borrow this beautiful antique stained-glass lamp,” she said.

“Hmm,” Sybil said. “We don’t believe in replicas here at Sybil Hunter Enterprises.”

Nadine blushed and didn’t respond.

“And Linda, what was your part?”

“I helped Andy build the sideboard, and I made the chair cushions.” Sybil picked one up and looked at it. It was blue and green with gold thread. I couldn’t quite imagine Linda at a sewing machine.

“Hmm,” Sybil said again. Alice looked like she wanted to say something, but pursed her lips and remained silent.

“Jodi Sue?”

Jodi Sue looked down. “I … helped with the centerpiece, too,” she said.

“It took four people to make
that
centerpiece?” Sybil said.

“Jodi Sue also planned the menu,” said Andy. “Because she’s a
chef.
” He said it with disdain.

“And what about this menu?” said Sybil. “This isn’t a holiday dinner menu. I only see desserts.”

“I… didn’t quite understand the assignment,” Jodi Sue said.

Sybil shook her head. “It’s all in the Rulebook,” she said. “How would you all say Andy did as a team leader?”

They all began to argue about what Andy should or shouldn’t have done. “I painted the whole goddamn thing and built everything, I practically did the whole challenge myself,” Andy yelled over the din. “When obviously I should have been the one planning the menu.”

“Just because you work in a restaurant doesn’t mean you’re more of a chef than I am,” said Jodi Sue.

“Andy, do you think your team should win this challenge?” Sybil asked.

“I definitely do,” he said. He began a long list of reasons why he thought their table was the best, but I wasn’t listening. I was trying not to look at Harris, who stood back from his mother and wasn’t even looking at the table. He was looking at me. Finally, I stole a glance, and our eyes met. His were questioning. I could feel the heat rising in my face. I shook my head.
Focus, Faith. Don’t get distracted.

Sybil finally came over to our table. Her face brightened when she got a closer look. “Ahh,” she said. This gave us all hope.

“Welcome to our Thanksgiving table,” Shari said. “Our theme was Authentic Holidays.”

Sybil nodded. “Tell me about what you’ve done here,” she said.

“The centerpiece is made from fresh greens, pinecones we painted ourselves, these beautiful white votive candles, and of course, fresh roses,” Shari said. “We wanted something lavish, a centerpiece that extends to become almost a table runner. We painted these silver charger plates and added the snowflake details,” she said.

Sybil picked one up. “Is this balsa wood?” she said.

“It is,” said Shari.

“You wouldn’t know it from looking,” she said. “Very nice.”

“I painted the snowflakes and did the calligraphy!” Monica burst out. “I think it’s the prettiest part!”

“But Shari, you aren’t the team leader,” Sybil said, looking at Shari, as if even she’d forgotten until now who was supposed to be in charge. “Didn’t you choose Christophe to be your team leader?”

Shari looked embarrassed. “Well, yes, that’s true,” she admitted.

“I am the team leader, but I know talent when I see it and I delegated tasks to Shari that I knew she would be best at, including our table demonstration,” Christophe said, surprising everyone.

“I see,” said Sybil. “That is definitely the sign of a competent leader.”

Shari gave Christophe a grateful look. I couldn’t help being a little annoyed. When Shari took over the team, it was the sign of a competent leader? When I took over the team, I’d almost been axed for it, and Chaz was the casualty.

Sybil walked around the table, looking at all the placecards. Then she smiled. “I see you included the members of your team at the table. Very … optimistic,” she said. I couldn’t help looking at Harris with pride. He smiled at me and I quickly looked away.

“We’re going to take some photographs and make some notes, and then Alice, Ian, Harry, and I are going back to the conference room to have a discussion. When we have made our decision, we’ll call you in.”

We all stepped back to let the photographers shoot the tables. Then Sybil, Alice, Ian, and Harris left the room. I refused to watch
him leave. If he gave me a backward glance on his way out, I didn’t see it.

For nearly an hour, we sat, in chairs or on the floor, waiting to be called into the Decision Room, arguing about who had screwed up, who had done the most work, who had slacked off. I sat by Andy for a while. “This sucks,” he said. “I picked the worst people.”

“But you were a strong leader,” I said. “At least, from what I could tell.”

“I am so sick of Sadie and her farmer crap. She’s a complete idiot. The worst part is, she actually thinks she knows what she’s doing. At least Jodi Sue stays out of the way. She
knows
she’s an idiot.”

I didn’t want to put down any of my team members, although it was tempting to crack a joke about Monica mainlining the champagne, or how Mikki and Christophe should get a room. “Shari’s a contender,” I said. “She pretty much took over Christophe’s job.”

“Christophe is an easy target,” Andy said. “I’d like to keep him around for a while because he’s easy to beat. And you’re right—Shari won’t be as easy.”

I thought about that. What if it came down to Shari and me? We were friends. But I couldn’t even think about how that might go. I was so tired, I could hardly see straight, but I was also so full of nervous energy that I could hardly sit still.

Katie couldn’t either. She began to pace, and finally came over to stand near me. I had to say something. “Hey, why do you hate me so much?” I said.

She looked away, her arms crossed. But finally she answered. “You know why.”

“No, I really don’t,” I said.

Finally she turned in exasperation and looked at me. “You made a fool out of me in front of Peter Jarrell that night at the Hearst Castle. I’d seen you around, but frankly, you didn’t interest me. I thought you were nobody. But then you pulled your strings with Josh Kameron to get me kicked out. I’ve never been kicked out of a party before or since. And it was because of you.”

“What? They kicked you out? I swear, I didn’t tell them to do that. I just told Peter to … well …” I paused. “I told him to just take care of you.”

“Well, he did,” she said.

“Hey, I’m really sorry, I didn’t know that happened,” I said.

“Whatever,” she said, and walked away. Well, at least that explained her attitude. I felt a little guilty—but not so guilty that I was going to lose my focus.

When Andy started pacing, I knew he was about to blow. Finally, he turned on Katie and Sadie. “You guys are morons, you know. You blew this for us. You destroyed our team unity.”

“What team unity?” said Sadie. “You people don’t even understand the point of Thanksgiving.”

“Sure I do,” Andy said. “The point of Thanksgiving is to
win.
And I can already tell who in this room is oriented toward winning, and who isn’t. And if you’re not in this game to play hard, I say you should just go home.”

“Don’t look at me,” Sadie said. “Nadine’s the one making everybody paranoid, with her fake two-faced manners, so we all start suspecting one another.”

“I’m not paranoid,” Andy said. “If you’re paranoid, that’s your problem, and that makes you a drain on all of us.”

“You’re the drain,” Katie said, playing with a scrap of fish scale fabric. “You’re so hyper, you can’t even calm down long enough to look anybody in the eye.”

“Look who’s talking,” Andy said to Katie, his voice getting higher pitched. “If it was up to you, we’d cover our Thanksgiving table with dead fish.”

“Lunatic,” Katie muttered.

“Long-legged freak,” Andy shot back.

“Enough, now can’t we all get along? This is unacceptable behavior,” Nadine said. “This isn’t how civilized people behave.”

“I hardly think we’re civilized at this point,” I threw in.

Shari raised her eyebrows at me. “They’re going
down
,” she whispered.

Finally, Polly came back in the room. “Sybil will see you now,” she said.

“Today’s contest showed your creativity,
your style, and your ability to work with others,” Sybil said to us as we all sat around the table. “Each table had its strong points and its weak points, but we’ve decided there was a clear winner.”

She looked at Alice, who nodded. Harris kept his gaze down, obviously not enjoying being a part of the show at all.

“Tonight, I’d like the other judges to speak,” Sybil said. “Alice, let’s begin with the first team. Tell me your thoughts.”

“This table was terrible,” Alice said. “I don’t know what else to say. The centerpiece was ugly, the colors were ugly, the fish theme was absurd, the sideboard looked like it was about to topple over, and I wouldn’t dare put any desserts on that dessert stand.”

“I agree,” said Harris, suddenly volunteering to speak. “I didn’t understand this design at all. It was just bad, and I think it was pretty obvious that the team didn’t get along.”

“I think the internal conflicts on your team showed glaringly in the final product,” agreed Sybil. “The themes clashed, and so did the team members. I like the
idea
of a fish theme, but the execution just wasn’t there.”

“And what about Christophe’s team?” Sybil asked Alice.

“I thought the color scheme was much more successful. It was very Christmas-y, more a table for Christmas Eve dinner or a holiday party than Thanksgiving perhaps,” she said. “However, it was really beautiful, and I loved the champagne fountain. A very nice touch.”

“I agree,” said Harris. “Christophe’s team’s table was coherent, and the team worked together. Everyone’s ideas complemented everyone else’s. I’d be proud to have our family Thanksgiving at that table.”

“Anything else?” Sybil asked her son.

“Only that Christophe’s table was more beautiful,” he said. He looked directly at me. “Beautiful,” he said again. I blushed furiously and looked down.

“I agree with all of you,” Sybil said, seeming not to notice to whom her son had directed his comments. “But there is much to consider.” She clasped her hands and put them in front of her on the table.

This is it, I thought. Are we going to win, or is she going to surprise us all and choose the other team? I wouldn’t put it past her. I held my breath. I couldn’t stand the suspense. We couldn’t rely on anything anymore. Reality? Common sense? The sun coming up tomorrow? At this point, who knew?

We waited. And waited. For what seemed like long, crawling, torturous minutes, the clock ticking in slow motion. Finally, she spoke.

“Christophe, although you seemed to be a weak leader who let Shari take over, a good leader does know how to delegate effectively, and your team created a spectacular table. I have chosen it to be featured in our magazine, on our show, and most important, for our family Thanksgiving dinner. And as a special surprise, your team will be joining my family for Thanksgiving dinner, so I will see you all tomorrow in Larchmont.”

Everyone on our team let out a collective sigh. Shari looked delighted. “Thank you, Sybil!” she said. “I’m so honored to win again. And so honored to be invited to your home.” Monica and Mikki looked at each other and rolled their eyes. I could tell Shari was wearing on their nerves.

“Andy, your team loses this challenge,” Sybil continued. “And one of you will be eliminated. Shari, you and your team may leave the room.”

Ten minutes later, the door opened. Andy strutted into the room, followed by Linda, Jodi Sue, Nadine, and Katie. “Old McDonald had a farm… and she just went back there. See ya!” Andy said brazenly. I couldn’t help being disappointed that it wasn’t Katie. Sadie didn’t
have anything against me. Katie seemed ready to hire a hit man to take me out, for whatever reason.

“So it’s Sadie. The farmer’s gone,” Shari said, nodding. “I had a feeling.”

“Thank God. I couldn’t stand another minute of her organic local seasonal blah blah blah,” Andy said, adjusting his tie.

“She was boring,” Monica said. “And she needs to cut off that crazy long hair. And she was like … a nothing. She had no personality.”

“As opposed to your excess of personality?” Andy said.

“My personality is sparkling, like champagne!” said Monica. “Can we go back to the Loft now? I need a drink.”

Back at the Loft, Monica
poured herself a glass of wine. Linda and Andy took energy bars from the cupboard and supercharged caffeine drinks from the refrigerator. “You’re drinking that now? That’s the last thing
you
need,” Katie said to Andy, as she opened another bag of black licorice.