Gabby set her tray of tasty mince tarts on the refreshment table and placed her plump little hands on her hips. She cast a jaundiced eye on Ethel Hillier and her usual contribution of devilled eggs. "That woman has no notion of how to present food." she muttered to herself. "It's all bits of egg shell floating in water on the bottom of her plate. No one wants to eat an egg out of that mess."
Ethel turned her normally blank expression on Gabby. Her eyes positively danced with suppressed excitement. "I do believe my destiny is in catering." she gushed. "I'd be delighted to help you do the dusting, cleanup and reconfiguration of the chairs afterwards. I can spend as long as you like here dear."
Gabby closed her cornflower blue eyes and counted to ten. If there was anything that Ethel was worse at than cooking, it was cleaning. Still, she couldn't be blamed for that, coming from a household of all men. "That would be lovely Ethel, I always appreciate the help."