Tea with Daisy

"Excuse me, Madame," said the butler, confusion laced in his deep voice. "There is someone at the door for you. He said his name was Gatsby."

The sparkle of his name sent a rush of enchanting glee through me. For the umpteenth time in the week, the very thought of Jay being close enough to touch with my own fingertips filled me with an electricity that turned my face the deepest shade of boulevardier. I tried to excuse myself subtly but, before I could even mutter anything, Jordan leaned over and asked too loudly, “Daisy, who is at the door?”

I tried to think of something to say before his name fell out of my mouth. “Gats-, … the gardener just arrived with some extra alstroemeria flowers.”

“Here, I can help bring them in,” Jordan exclaimed, jumping out of her seat.

“No!” The desperate urgency in my voice was enough to startle Jordan into hesitation. She gave me a confused look, returning to her seat slowly. I added in a nervously calm voice, “I just need to speak to him about where to put them and about a future date.”

Standing quickly from the table, my mind began to whirl. What was he doing here? Why did he have to come now? Why didn’t he let me know that he was coming? This tea party was meant to help me reestablish my love for Tom and to crush any rumors that Gatsby and I are seeing each other. To ensure this, I asked Tom to stop by around noon. I had been planning this party since I overheard a few ladies talking about how I was having an affair with Jay while I was at one of Jay’s wonderfully devastating parties. The West Egg’s fixation on shameless vice is so appalling, yet I just can’t get away from Jay. I didn’t want any part of that nonchalant dismissal of the sanctity of traditional modesty. The glamour of simplicity is something West Eggers will certainly never know. They would not have the composure to enjoy the leisurely elegance of a tea party. The array harmonious of cakes, finger sandwiches, pastries, and of course the tea. and I saw Olga, Pammy’s caretaker, walking down the hall. “Olga, what time is it?”

“It is fifteen minutes after noon,” she responded in her adamant European accent, adding, “Pammy asked if she could join the party. Could she?”

“Have the rest of her new summer dresses arrived from the seamstress?”

“No.”

“Well, I don’t want her to be seen unless she is wearing something new and white.”

“Of course, Madame.”

Turning to the door where Gatsby was waiting, I scrambled to figure out what to do for when Tom arrives. I could try to distract him with pestering about getting a refrigerator in front of Cristine. She talks about her refrigerator just as much as a dog barks when it sees a squirrel. Then again, there was always Jordan. Jordan always had great ideas. I needed to find her.

“Daisy!” exclaimed Mrs. Crater, who evidently had some stronger tea. “This tea party is absolutely wonderful! Where did you get these gorgeous gardenias? The accent of fuchsia against the soft white and gold of the silverware and tableware is so sophisticated. I cannot stop admiring them!”

I giggled politely, my mind still darting around possible solutions. “During Tom and I’s honeymoon in France these beautiful blossoms that were growing in the garden of the house that we were staying in. They remind me of Tom. I had them specially delivered from France for today.”

“Oh, how wonderful! How wonderful! Daisy dear,” she began to rock back and forth like a slow metronome until she fell back onto a sofa.

After traversing the room, I finally I got to Jay. Immediately after I said hello to Jay, I saw Tom pull into the driveway.

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