The burnt oranges and bright reds that colored the shedding trees gave October Road a certain caliber unmatched by any other place on earth. As fall returned to October Road, often times the neighborhood would gather at Lisa Murdoc's, the president of the Home Owners Association, house, and discuss the beauty and laugh at the coincidental naming of the road, as it shone most brilliantly in the month with which it shared its name.
It was at this time that Lisa Murdoc decided to host a neighborhood dinner party. Lisa and Tom Murdoc did not hold barbeques or block parties; they held fine dinners with only the best residence in attendance. The fine linens were taken from the cedar china cabinet and spread across the expansive dining table, which had been hand-crafted in Holland and sat fourteen. The silverware, which had been passed down to Lisa from her great-grandmother and was regularly polished, was set out just so, and center pieces were ordered from the local florist, always inspired by the season, and always unique.
On the morning preceding the dinner, Lisa Murdoc took out her calligraphy set and began making the place-cards. Lisa always made her own place-cards. She felt it gave her dinners a homely touch.
For this dinner, she chose her finest gold ink to inscribe the names of her expected guests. As she worked, her mind wandered to a conversation that she had had with Marianne Holston, her next-door neighbor, the previous afternoon.
Marianne was a pretty, petite woman from an well-known and respected family, who had married into the Holston family, a clan of sharp minded and quick-tongued lawyers who operated a family firm in the city. Her husband, Greg, had shown remarkable talent for the family business at a young age, and had attended Vanderbilt pre-law and then Harvard for Law School. Greg Holston's own fortune had been attained by his grandfather and father, and likewise he lived the new money lifestyle, in a way that suited Marianne better than the lifestyle of her parents. Marianne herself had graduated from Cornell (she was from Syracuse but had been raised in New York City) and now ran a successful wedding planning company, and had even done a wedding for one of the Astors the year before. The Holstons had twin daughters, Emily and Catherine, who had only just started school.
Marianne pulled into the driveway in her sleek, black Mercedes, having just picked up the girls from school. Emily was the first out of the car, stopping to pull a picture out of her backpack to show Marianne.
"Mommy! Look," she cried, thrusting the color pencil rendering at Marianne, who took it absent-mindedly.
"Beautiful, sweetheart," she said, without looking at the picture. Her mind raced as she tried to process the information she had heard from another mother at the school just minutes earlier. Emily noticed her mother's inattentiveness and grabbed the picture back dejectedly.
Catherine slammed the door, momentarily shaking Marianne from her thoughts.
"Not so hard, Cat," she winced.
"Mommy, mommy, guess what!" Cat cried, knocking her sister out of the way. Emily let out a howl of protest.
"Hey," Marianne spoke sternly. "Don't do that!" She pulled Cat away from Emily, who attempted to push back.
"Hello, Marianne!" called a familiar, snarky voice. Marianne sighed and turned, making an effort to appear calm before her patronizing neighbor.
Lisa approached the white, spotless fence that separated the properties. She wore a camel pantsuit with an ivory button down with crimson accents under the blazer. She smiled, patting her recently blown-out raven hair, her white teeth bright and unnatural. She appeared perfect, as usual, and Marianne stymied a sight with effort. In comparison, her flat, light blonde hair (which was natural--Marianne never dyed, allowing for a few grays to appear here and there) shone dully, and her pale lilac cardigan and caramel skirt seemed straight from Old Navy, though they were ordered from Barney's and cost a fortune.
"Hi, Lisa." Marianne replied through a fake smile.
"Well, I just wanted to make sure that you are coming tomorrow night. The dinner's five courses, and the chef's been working on it since Tuesday," she said, laughing. "So don't eat tomorrow." She added, seemingly joking, but serious in actuality.
Marianne hesitated. "Oh, yeah, we'll be there. Six?"
"Yes, same as always. I feel that any earlier is uncouth, and any later, there won't be time for a proper fifth course." Lisa laughed lightly, her eyes wandering to Marianne's children, who were in the midst of an argument threatening to evolve into a full on altercation.
"My, how the girls have grown," Lisa commented, politely. "They're six now?"
"Yes," Marianne confirmed, a frown coloring her tired face as she tried her best to ignore her daughters' horrid behavior.
"Well, they certainly are..." Lisa paused, searching for the right word. "...charming." She finished, flashing her brilliant teeth. What she meant was, "Your children are uncontrollable. I cannot believe you let them out in public."
"You know, Trevor just received his acceptance letter to Princeton," Lisa announced proudly, switching the topic of the conversation to her own children. "On early decision. Can you believe it?" Lisa said.
"It really is unbelievable," said Marianne. She knew that the only reason Trevor was accepted into Princeton because of a hefty, no-so-anonymous donation by a certain member of the Murdoc family.
"And Jason, well he's only fourteen, but we expect great things from him as well. He's starting on the varsity lacrosse team as a freshman at Harper's. Quite an accomplishment. Trevor didn't start until halfway through his sophomore year."
"Mhmm." Marianne responded, smiling. "You're children really are spectacular," she said sarcastically, but Lisa took no notice.
"Yes, they really are." Lisa's smile began to fade as she noticed the look on Marianne's face. "Marianne, is something wrong?"
"No, no, nothing's wrong." Marianne sighed. "It's just...well, it doesn't matter. Six, right?"
"No, tell me," Lisa demanded, ignoring Marianne's attempt to change the topic.
Marianne glanced around to see if anyone else was within hearing distance. She leaned in closed to Lisa.
"I heard something today when I was waiting to pick up the girls. You know Kendra Redford?"
"Isn't she Kristy Cardinal's sister?" Kristy and Mark Cardinal lived on October Road with their three children, West, East, and North.
"Yes. And Kendra's best friend, Macy Harding's, son is in the girls' class and I ran into Macy this afternoon. She asked me if I'd heard the news."
"What news?" Lisa leaned forward, agitated that she didn't already know the latest gossip.
"It's about the Cardinals...the oldest kid, West."
Lisa frowned. "What about him?"
Marianne glanced over at her daughters who were playing tag in the yard.
"He was in an accident last night."
Lisa stepped back. "Is he alright?"
Marianne shook her head. "He died."
Lisa's hands flew to her mouth. "Oh my God. And after everything that family has been through this past year..."
Marianne nodded. "And Juliette Lewis was with him. She's in intensive care, but according to Macy she's going to make it."
"What happened?" Lisa shook her head in disbelief. "Of all the people, this happened to them..." Lisa's eyes rested on the Cardinals' house, which lay four houses down across the street.
Marianne's eyes followed hers. "It was raining and he was driving too fast. It could've happened to anyone..."
That night the light shinning from the Murdocs' house could be seen from every corner of the neighborhood. Lisa stood at the entrance and greeted each of her guests. She smiled and exchanged pleasantries with each, as a gracious hostess is expected to do.
Marianne and Greg Holston were among the last to arrive. Lisa greeted Marianne with enthusiasm, as if their previous conversation had never taken place. The only hint Lisa gave that she remembered the exchange at all was her remark, "Well, I suppose Kristy and Mark won't make it tonight."
By that time the entire neighborhood had heard the news, but the evening bore no sign of the tragedy. The women were merticulously dressed and the men sported diner jackets and conversed lightly about the latest games.
Around seven Lisa stood in the center of the Great Room and announced that dinner would be served shortly. The guests slowly advanced to the elaborate Dinning Room, lingering to offer last minute responses to shallow conversations.
