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I plucked out the first slip of paper and unfolded it. "Read it aloud," Whitney ordered,
"Make him sleep in a separate bedroom so he has to get permission to enter twice," I read, and they all laughed,
"Ladies?" Whitney cried.
"Lucien Castle," they cried, fingers pointing at a woman who looked well into her fifties, despite her obvious face-lift and platinum hair.
"Well, it works for me. Never let them take you for granted," she advised, shaking her head at ine. "Obviously, my advice has stuck or they wouldn't have known it was my suggestion," she concluded with pride.
"Next," Whitney ordered.
I pinched another slip and opened it.
At least once a month, have him wear your nightgown and you wear his pajamas to bed."
After the laughter, there was silence.
"Ladies?" Whitney asked the guests. Eyes searched faces. "The rule is, if we can't guess it in thirty seconds. You have to step forward.'
The most unlikely suspect in the group did so. She was a short, plump woman who looked every bit of sixtv-five to seventy.
"Oh. I told some of you about that," she declared. "My first husband and I followed it religiously, and we had a lovely marriage until he died. I'm Jean Blackman, My first husband, Wesley Shaw, had some business dealings with your stepfather Winston, Grace.
"Oh, yes." Mother said. although I could see she didn't recall.
"I'm happy to be the one who's the most shocking so far. Apparently, you younger ladies can still use some good advice and are not as exciting in the boudoir as you would have us older ladies believe."
There was laughter, but still restrained by surprise. "You sure this is a good idea?" I whispered to Whitney.
"Absolutely. Look how quickly you're getting to know everyone. Next." she cried, and sipped some champagne.
I chose another and opened it.
"Every time he neglects you, spend twice as much as you did the time before."
"Heather Dresser." the Carriage sisters chanted before anyone else.
"Guilty." a tall, dark-complexioned woman cried, her hands up. She stepped forward. "I've bankrupted two husbands and I'm terrorizing a third. I think he's a faster learner and this one will survive." Even Mother was laughing at that.
"Heather's wardrobe, if hung in a straight line, would reach her hometown in Canada." Jean Blackman quipped.
"Look who's talking."
"Next," Whitney ordered over the laughter.
I opened another. My silence sent a nervous titter through the party.
"Even if you do the exact opposite of what she suggests, 'yes' your mother-in-law to death."
"That's mine." Marjorie Lane cried before she could be accused. "Willow and I have already met, so she would probably have guessed. My analyst warned me my ex-mother-in-law would get between me and my husband, even in bed.
There was a pregnant pause.
"Willow doesn't have to worry about that," Bunny finally declared. "My son isn't my type. He's much too serious and responsible."
Laughter of relief followed. Whitney gazed down at me, her eyes sparkling with mischief and glee.
"Go on." she said. "We have to get to the brunch soon." More reluctantly than before. I took out another.
