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“What kind of dog is he?” Serena asked.
He lowered his voice. “Chinese crested.”
I stifled a laugh. “Not your choice, I’m guessing.” I’d seen pictures of the breed. They were hairless except around the head—definitely not a man’s dog.
He shook his head and mumbled something less than complimentary about Tina.
Serena and I commiserated with him. Even Larry didn’t deserve the likes of Tina.
An older man had been stopping at the tables to our left, seeming to be making the rounds. He resembled Colonel Sanders with his white hair, goatee, and cane.
“How are we doing at this table?” he asked as he arrived at our table. His tone was jovial.
Dennis spoke up first. “Great, Dad.”
So this was the patriarch of the Benson family, Lloyd Benson himself.
He greeted each of the guests around the table by name, and then got to me. “You must be the great negotiator Dennis has told me about. Jennifer, isn’t it?”
The man was charming and obviously good with names.
“I don’t know about the great part. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Benson.”
He rounded the table to our side. “I want to shake your hand, young lady. Jimmy has needed to be taken down a few pegs for quite a while now.”
Jimmy had to be James Talbot the third.
Lloyd extended his hand and gave mine a firm shake. “Good for you.”
I couldn’t help but like the friendly old man, even if he was a Benson.
Dennis interjected. “He certainly left with his tail between his legs.”
The elder Benson laughed. “I’m sure he’ll deny it next time I see him.”
Without realizing it, I’d gotten myself in the middle of a pissing contest between two powerful families.
“Well, thank you all for coming and supporting our museum,” Lloyd said. “Have a wonderful evening.” With that he was off to the next table, once again greeting most of the guests there by name.
The waiters soon cleared our dinners, and the desserts arrived.
Cindy’s husband was busy giving Larry housebreaking tips.
“He even peed on the top of my poker table,” Larry complained.
That merited a round of laughs from all of us.
“The green felt probably looked like grass to him,” Mrs. Fisher offered.
Larry shook his head. “Outside he refuses to go on the grass and pees on the concrete instead.”
Dennis had an interesting question. “Where is he now?”
“Since he likes cement so much, he’s in the garage till I get back.”
The waiters were still clearing our dessert plates when the emcee took the stage. The crowd hushed with his announcement that the silent auction winners were about to be revealed.
Larry won a case of nice wine and jogged up to get his prize slip to a round of applause.
