It’s well past sundown at the Chamber of Commerce charity ball and there’s a rattlesnake on the dance floor. Stilettos pierce blackberry soufflés and balsamic-drizzled olives as socialites in violet and dark plum evening gowns head for high ground. It’s all resinous-herb energy, coiling and uncoiling to Moon River. But you’re unfazed as you shed that tuxedo vest, find the shovel in the ballroom’s back closet, and give the tumultuous crowd what they want, all without spilling your drink.
