"I'd be more than happy to help, Jacques," Kyle said, starting to take off his jacket.
"Ha! And 'ave your mère find you elbow deep in ze hors d'oeuvres? No, no, no, sit your butt down! I will 'ave a dish brought over! And so 'elp me Kyle, if you get sauce on your shirt, I'll make you wear a bib!"
Kyle laughed and led Andrea to a table to one side of the kitchen where they were out of the way of the frantic activity.
"I'm not sure what the entertainment in the ballroom is, but you can't beat this for a show, right?" he said with a grin.
Andrea wasn't as riveted on the line as much as Kyle. He'd occasionally rise from his seat for a better view, explain something, shout a question, or make remarks like 'I'll have to remember that one.' It was easy for her to imagine a much younger—much shorter—Kyle standing on a chair doing the exact same thing.
