//CLARA//
"If that silver centerpiece leans even half a degree to the left, Gary, I am personally using your velvet measuring tape to strangle you."
"It's straight, Clara! It's geometrically flawless!" Gary shrieked, backing away from the grand archway with his hair standing in five different directions. "The ironworkers nearly lost three fingers polishing the airplane wing structure! Look at it! It reflects light like a newly minted coin!"
"Good. Then make sure the red carpet outside doesn't look like a crime scene," I barked, stepping over a roll of dark crimson velvet three servants were struggling to align. "The press is already lining the lower courtyard. I want the flash powder photographers positioned every five paces, not clumped together like sheep."
"The reporters are practically rioting at the gate, Eleanor," Oliver called out, walking past with a heavy wooden crate of glass display blocks.
