The Party

The Party

We went as far as the car would take us. Halfway down the lane to the mansion the tires rumbled, and the car shuddered. The moment it glided to a stop, the headlights illuminated a small sign that dangled, lopsided, from the lowest limb of an enormous oak tree. My eyes focused on the one word written in oversized red letters, Hoppengale. The lines above and below it disappeared into the blackness as the engine sputtered and the headlights went dark.

"Damn the luck!" Roger squinted at the dials on the dashboard. "I can't understand it. We have plenty of gas, the oil gauge says it's fine, and the amp gauge indicates there is no problem with the battery."

I dialed my sister on my cellphone. "Still, it's an old car."

"It's a vintage 1924 Chrysler Six. Mr. Stweart assured me it had been fully restored."

"Crap, not a single bar." I dropped my cell back into my purse. "I feel absolutely ridiculous in this get-up."

"Look, Mr. Stewart was kind enough to invite us to his party. We're already halfway down his drive. I think we should go ahead and walk the rest of the way."

I stared at my fianclike he had three eyes. "I'm dressed in this silly 1920s flapper dress that barely covers my behind. I've jammed my feet into a pair of ridiculous black stiletto heels, and I've even had my hair done like a flapper. I only agreed to attend this back to the 20's party because you said we'd arrive in style and have a really good time."

"Come on Ellie, we can still have a ball. The Mr. Stewart is eccentric and filthy rich. He and my boss and are tight. He told Jerry he's tired of the usual crowd. He said he'd sell me the car if we came to the party in it. And he gave me a great deal."

"So you agreed to have me tag along so Mr. Stewart would sell you this heap?"

"Of course not, honey." He smiled at me. "You like parties, and this is going to be great."

"Look, Roger, there is no way I'm going to walk more than a mile in these heels in the dark."

"I don't think it's that far."

I exhaled loudly. "I looked it up on the net, Roger. Nathanial S. Hoppengale built this estate in 1921 for his new bride. The key word here is, estate. The driveway is nearly two miles long. We couldn't have made it more than half way."

"You looked it up?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, so what? It's kind of tragic, really. Hoppengale's wife died only three months after they moved in. He disappeared, and the estate was sold at auction because he didn't have any relatives. And I still say it's a little creepy the guy who's throwing this party has the same first name as the guy who built the place?"

"It's only a coincidence that Mr. Stewart and Hoppengale share first names." Roger put a hand on the lever of his door, pulled up, and opened the door a crack. "What if I walk ahead and you wait here. I'll have someone come back for you."

"Are you completely--"

Lights and a car horn cut me off. A man wearing a tweed coat, vintage racing goggles, and a tan scarf pulled his yellow Stutz Bear-Cat beside our car. "Can I be of assistance, Mr. Wilson?"

"Oh, Mr. Stewart. We're having a little car trouble."

"I'm in a bit of a hurry, being late for my own affair." He chuckled. "And please call me Nate. But, I'm afraid I only have room for one passenger. I could take one of you. I'll send my limo back to pick up the other straightaway."

Roger looked at me. "You go. I'll be along before you know it."

I leaned so close to Roger my breath fogged his glasses. "You actually expect me to climb into that car with a total stranger?"

"Come on Ellie," Roger whispered. "He's our host. He's driving a car that's worth a fortune, he's my boss's best friend, and he knows we're engaged." He kissed me on the cheek. "I'll be there in ten minutes."

For a minute I glared at him, then I shoved my door open and climbed out. I snatched my fox stole from the back seat and stalked over to the Stutz. I dropped into the passenger seat, and without looking at him, I said, "Thanks for the help, Mr. Stewart."

"Please, call me Nate. And no problem." He waved at Roger. "See you at the party."

Roger waved at me. "See you in a few minutes, Honey."

I scowled back at him.

Nate shoved the car in gear and roared off. We were barely out of sight of Roger's car when a slight fog enveloped the road. I shivered and pulled my stole tighter around my bare shoulders. We continued in silence until the car stopped. I opened the door and leaped out. I turned toward Nate, gave him a quick. "Thanks," and ran for the door.

Inside, the mansion looked every bit the part of a place lost in the 20s. Gas-lights added an air of mystery to the scene. Servants in costume served guests decked out in clothes as reminiscent of the period as mine. I snatched a glass of champagne and parked myself on a red velvet loveseat near the fireplace.

When I looked above the mantle, my first sip of champagne caught in my throat. An enormous painting of a woman who could have been my identical twin stared down at me. She wore a dress exactly like mine. We even shared the same ice blue eye color.

I was staring at the image when Nate took a seat next to me. "You look lovely."

A shiver crawled up my neck. I took a long drink of champagne. "Who is that woman in the painting?"

Before he could answer, a man dressed as a butler approached us. "Mr. Hoppengale, Sir," he bowed slightly, Mrs." He nodded to me. "Should we announce the meal maam?"

My mouth dropped open.

"Certainly, Fredrick." Nate waved the man off.

The air became stale--hard to breathe. I wanted to run outside into the cold, crisp night. But Nate's hand on my shoulder stopped me.

"I'm afraid there's been a mistake. The man playing your butler mistook me

for . . . I should go and wait for Roger. He's probably--"

"There has been no mistake, Rosalyn."

"My name's Ellie, and my fiancwill be here any minute."

"I'm afraid he will not. I'm Nathanial Hoppengale. He looked into my eyes. "You are really my wife, Rosalyn."

"You're crazy. Your wife died ninety years ago." I ran my fingers through my short blond hair. "What am I saying? You can't be him. You'd be over a hundred years old." My vision blurred, and my mind swam with strange thoughts.

Nathanial caressed my hand. "You did not die. You were stolen away by a fellow sorcerer named John Mathgen. We were friends. In our youth we discovered the secret to bending time."

I tried to close my mind to what he was saying, but something in his voice drew me in. "Please, please, let me go."

His hand tensed. I felt warmth slide up my arm as he continued. "Shortly after you and I met, John fell hopelessly in love with you. Here," he handed me a photograph. I stared at a picture of what could have been me standing between Nate and a much taller man with a thin mustache. It can't be me!

I continued to stare at the picture while he went on. "When you rebuffed his advances, he took you into the future to torture me. I left this estate and traveled the world and through time to find you. And now that I have, I've brought you back to the place and time where you belong."

I fought to clear my mind, to get up, and to run out of this place. My lips trembled. I whispered, "You're insane."

"I'll prove what I say is true." He took my hand and replaced my diamond engagement ring with a larger one and a matching wedding band. "You have a wine- colored birthmark two inches below your navel. It's oval and reddens when you bathe."

I gasped as I looked into his dark eyes, and suddenly I recognized the man I had married the year we bought the gleaming yellow Stutz.

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