Because she wants her friends to see the extraordinary repeating bloom of her orchids, the woman turns the five potted plants on her kitchen windowsill so that their big Georgia O’Keefe crotch-n-petals are facing the room the night before the guests are due. When she pads down to the kitchen in the morning however she finds that the flowers have responded to the dawn by bending back towards the window, away from the dim room, straining for the light as living things do. She grumbles in a private, ladylike way and turns the flowers around once again. She wants her friends to see them, but how will they if they keep bending so towards the winter sun? The woman busies herself with them all day. Between the readying of her home for guests, the preparation of a simple yet impressive meal and the lacquering of her face and nails, she negotiates so with the uncooperative white orchids, seemingly determined to shame her. Half an hour before her friends are due, she surrenders and places two of the pots right in the centre of the table where they will eat the simple yet impressive meal. This way, she figures, though they will not be able to see each other, her friends will definitely be able to see the extraordinary repeating bloom of the white orchids, and they will definitely be able to see what the lady means for them to say about her.