Evening Bags and Executions(24)

Woodstock wasn’t just a fond memory for them; they were still living it.

One of them had long hair, parted in the middle, with a beaded headband stretched across her forehead. I was pretty sure I’d seen the other woman’s hairstyle on a perms-gone-wrong episode of one of those salon shows on Bravo. Both of them wore tiny, round wire-rimmed glasses with yellow lenses, tie-dyed muumuus, and necklaces with the peace sign—or maybe it was the Mercedes logo, I wasn’t sure.

It took everything I had not to scream, “Styles change for a reason.”

Instead, I introduced myself and sat down behind the desk.

“Sheridan Adams sent us,” one of them said.

Okay, so now their appearance made sense—kind of.

“You two must be the Beatles experts she mentioned,” I said. “Annie and Liz?”

“No,” one of them declared. She clamped her mouth shut, folded her arms across her considerable chest, and jerked her chin around.

“We’re not Annie and Liz,” the other woman explained.

I sincerely hoped that didn’t mean there were two more women out there somewhere dressed like this that I still had to meet with.

“Well, actually, we are Annie and Liz,” she went on.

“But we’ve assumed our Beatles persona.”

“From now on I will not respond unless I’m addressed as ‘Eleanor,’ ” the other women declared.

“And I’m to be called ‘Rigby,’ ” she said.

I looked back and forth between the two of them, and they both seemed to pick up on my you-two-old-gals-have-completely-lost-me look.

“Eleanor and Rigby,” she said, gesturing between the two of them. “ ‘Eleanor Rigby.’ It’s the title of a song on their Revolver album.”

“She doesn’t understand,” the one who wanted to be called Eleanor exclaimed. “We can’t work with her. We can’t possibly work with her. We should call Sheridan right now and tell her this girl has an inadequate background and a complete lack of understanding about the Beatles.”

She wanted to get me tossed as Sheridan’s event planner? Cause me to lose her account—and my job? And let Vanessa win?

It wasn’t happening.

“I know a great deal about the Beatles,” I told them.

I really didn’t, but what else could I say?

Eleanor glared at me for a few seconds, then said, “We’ll see about that. Tell me this—what was the title of their first hit single?”

Oh my God, she was giving me a quiz?

I’m not good at quizzes.

Eleanor must have realized from my expression that I didn’t know the answer because she blazed ahead and asked, “What was the name of their first movie?”

Jeez, I didn’t know this was a timed test.

Before I had time to think—or come up with a good guess—Eleanor fired another question at me.

“What was the name of the television variety show they appeared on in New York?” she asked.

“I know this one,” I told her. I might have yelled that. Eleanor and Rigby stared, waiting.

“The old guy,” I said, searching my memory. “The one who talked funny. Ed—Ed Sullivan.”

I’m sure I yelled that.

“One out of three questions,” Eleanor said, shaking her head.

“She’s young,” Rigby pointed out. “And she has arranged for the Cirque du Soleil people from the Love show to perform at the party.”

Oh, crap. I’d forgotten all about them.

“She has lots of time to learn about the Beatles before the party,” Rigby said.

I was supposed to learn the history of the Beatles?

“I’m sure she’ll do better next time,” Rigby said.

Next time?

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Eleanor said. She turned to me again. “But don’t think this means you can slack off. Everything at Sheridan’s party must be absolutely authentic—especially the music. Each tribute band should perform only songs from specific albums during each era.”

There were tribute bands?

Maybe I should read the file more closely.

“You two can rest assured that I will do absolutely everything possible to ensure the success of Sheridan’s party,” I said in my it’s-time-for-you-to-leave-now voice. “If I have any questions, I will contact you immediately.”

“I’m still not satisfied you’re the right one to plan Sheridan’s party,” Eleanor told me. “We’ll talk again.”

Great.

We exchanged phone numbers and I walked with them to the lobby.

“Oh! My! I love your outfits,” Mindy declared.

I’m definitely going to have to have a talk with her.