The Setup by Marie Ferrarella

decade past the age when invitations to a party were passed on by word of mouth, the way they were in high school.
    But Maddy’s answer made him realize that, to some extent, that was exactly what had happened.“Well, some are friends, some are people I buttonholed at the gallery, others are tourists—”
    When he stared at her incredulously, Sylvie leaned in and laughed against his ear. “She’s serious.”
    Jefferson’s body braced in response as Sylvie’s breath warmed his skin and reduced whatever resolve he had to overcooked oatmeal. He forced himself to focus on what she was telling him. That for the most part, the people here were as much strangers to Maddy as they were to him. It was hard for him to wrap his mind around that. He couldn’t conceive of just walking up to a total stranger and asking him to attend a party he was throwing. Why would anyone in their right mind do that?
    Maybe that was the way things were done these days. In all honesty, he had to admit that he didn’t know the first thing about putting a party together. That had been Donna’s domain. Once she died, the reason for parties had come to an abrupt halt.
    If she noticed Jefferson’s shock, Maddy gave no indication. “And here’s the best part,” she said with enthusiasm. “I managed to get some of the biggest critics in the state to attend. They’re here for the Mardi Gras season.”
    She rattled off the names of several people along with their credentials. There were a couple of theater critics, one from New York, and several columnists whose articles were syndicated in major newspapers across the country. There was even one notable movie critic who had been around for the past twenty years.
    Jefferson was surprised that this particular critic would come to an event like this. They must be close to the same age, which Jefferson supposed, made him the one who was out of step.
    “There are people here who have never agreed on anything in their lives,” Maddy concluded, as if that was a positive thing.
    “And you like this,” Jefferson asked, trying hard to make sense of her enthusiasm.
    Maddy looked at him as if she couldn’t believe he was even asking the question. “Yes!” Every fiber of her being seemed to resonate in the single word.
    But Jefferson was still trying to understand. Where he came from, confrontations were things to resolve, not encourage. “You like having people argue.”
    Maddy shook her head. “Not argue—discuss, debate.”
    In his book, those were just synonyms for argue. But he had a feeling that his was not the reigning view, so he dropped his line of questioning. This was a whole different world for him.
    “You’re allowed, you know,” Sylvie whispered against his ear.
    There it went again. Her breath, skimming along his skin. This time, it made the hairs on the back of his neck rise up. There was no point in trying to talk himself out of it. He was definitely attracted to this woman.
    “Allowed?” he echoed, turning to look at her. He wasn’t sure he followed her meaning. Right aboutnow, he understood what Alice must have experienced after falling through the rabbit hole and meeting up with a host of creatures that seemed to come from another world.
    “To disagree with her,” Sylvie explained.
    That seemed a little general, he thought. “About what?”
    She spread her hands wide, as if to encompass the entire area and everyone in it. “About anything. And with anyone,” she added. “That’s what this evening is all about, Jefferson. To get people with different points of view, from different walks of life gathered in a room. You present them with the same kind of stimuli and then have them share their reactions.”
    Cocking her head, Sylvie studied his expression and decided that she was not getting through the way she wanted to. He became her challenge.
    “Okay, for instance…” Taking Jefferson by the arm, she drew him over a little way so he could see the far wall more easily.