“British high society in the Georgian era. Like thatBridgertonshow on Netflix.”
“Right, theton.” Elias let go of Wren to slap his forehead, but Wren was almost positive he still had no idea. He confirmed it with a goofy look as he wrapped her back up again.
“Exactly,” Stephanie said, ignoring his antics. “Anyway, this family is stretched to the absolute max of their budget, and they want to impress theton, so they decide to throw a big party with a pineapple theme. Back then, pineapples were a mark of wealth and aristocracy because they were so hard to get. People actually rented pineapples for centerpieces.”
“No way!” Wren asked, incredulous.
Stephanie nodded. “Mmm-hmm, they did. So, in this story, the heroine, who is the oldest daughter in the family, can’t afford to outright buy an actual pineapple, so she decides to secretly rent one for this party as sort of a gamble to win over everyone.She's hoping, of course, to find her match and to make matches for her younger sisters.”
“Isn’t that the mother’s job?” Rochelle asked.
“Her mother is a complete idiot. She lets her oldest daughter run things, and for the most part, she’s done really well. So the heroine disguises herself and goes to rent a pineapple.”
“Wait a minute, so there was a store where you can rent pineapples?” Elias asked, looking confused.
“Dozens. You have no clue,” Stephanie said with mock exasperation. “So, she goes and rents a pineapple. She’s promised it will be delivered on the night of her party. But the villain in the story, a woman from one of the snootier families she’s trying to impress, has followed her. Then, when they’re at the party, our heroine is carrying around this pineapple, showing it off, and everyone is very impressed.”
Elias snorted.
“It would be like, I don't know, showing off your new Lotus or your Ferrari,” Stephanie said.
“I don't want a Lotus or Ferrari. I don't need one. I have my trucks,” Elias said, sounding proud.
“You have a second truck?” Wren asked.
“Yeah. I had it before my dad gave me his.”
“It’s a wonderful truck,” Wren said, and earned a squeeze. “Sorry, please continue.”
“So the party is going incredibly well. The sisters are all talking to eligible bachelors. There’s dancing. The food is great. Everything’s wonderful. Right up until the end. And that’s when the villain goes up to the heroine, looks at the pineapple, and says, ‘Now is the perfect time to carve that open, so we can eat it.’”
“Oh no!” Wren exclaimed.
“Oh yes,” Stephanie continued. “So the heroine is standing there, dumbstruck. She has no idea what to do. This thing isrented. If she carves it up, she’s out the money. But if she doesn’t carve it up, she has to admit that she rented it, and she will be made a fool. She’s looking at her sisters who are doing so well, talking to these bachelors. It’s all gonna be ruined. So the choice is clear.”
“She cuts up the pineapple, doesn’t she?” Wren asked, feeling sick to her stomach.
“She sure does. She walks over to the table, plops down the pineapple. She has no idea what she’s doing, right? And of course, the villain is goading her on. ‘Youknow how to carve a pineapple? Surely your staff does it for you.’ Then she looks around and says, ‘but I don’t see any staff here at the moment.’ That’s because they can’t afford full-time staff and the villain has paid them off to leave early.”
“Oh, she’s a real bitch,” Sandra muttered.
“A complete and utter bitch.” Stephanie nodded in agreement. “So the heroine is standing there with a knife, looking at this pineapple, having no idea what to do with it. She’s sick to her stomach, trying not to throw up because everything’s gone so wrong. Everybody is staring at her. Some people are snickering, other people are looking on, horrified. She realizes... theyknow. They know she rented this thing. But in for a penny, in for a pound. She lays the pineapple on its side on a platter, takes the knife in both hands, imagines the pineapple is the villain’s head, and shethoomp!chops off the top. It’s like she’s foreseen the French Revolution and the guillotine right there, and the villain is Marie Antoinette.”
Everyone laughed.
“She’s never had a pineapple, of course. So she’s not peeling it first. She’s just sort of chopping it up, making a complete hash of it. And the villain is watching her and making comments like, ‘That’s certainly an interesting way to dress a pineapple. I’ve never seen it done that way before. You must have been toparties that I’ve never attended.’ On and on. Finally, she’s got this butchered pineapple lying there. She’s putting the pieces onto another platter that someone has mercifully brought to her. Everyone gathers around for a piece.”
Wren was really getting into the story. “Please tell me with her head held high, she offers the first piece to the villain, right?”
“Right,” Stephanie said.
“Classy move. Power move.”
“And the villain turns up her nose and says, ‘Honestly, pineapple does not agree with my constitution. Judging by the look on your face, I don’t think it agrees with yours either.’”
The women groaned. They booed. They hissed.
“Oh, she is theworst!” Rochelle exclaimed.
