There are times in a reporter’s life when they just happen upon an answer that has perplexed humanity (and then some) for ages. Well kittens, Mamma Cat’s whiskers have dipped into more than one bowl in her time and she can tell you that sometimes there’s more than just cream below that gentle froth. A beautiful brie can show up in the most unlikely of places. Meow.

Case in point: returning from the Ephdilinplitzenpire through the Galactascope gives a gal gallons of time to get the ol’ brain gaskets going. I had a bunch of entrees on my plate. So I did what any good pencil pusher does- make a list.

1) Find Ben a place to live/a place to work/a back-story.
2) Clear ex-fiancé’s name in Falkirk mass murder mystery.
3) Get original Henri Bendel silk suit cleaned.

I can tell you that the first two would be a no-brainer for me. I’ve had harder challenges in my time on the beat- all it would take was a little Sloan sleuthing along with a couple of carefully chosen creative phrasings to get those two stories on Gutenberg’s Great Gadget. But the third…. How does one get hive juice out of a Bendel silk suit?

This is the question that was bouncing in the noggin as I was pouring myself a little nightcap after arriving home. (Yes- I realize that I’ve skipped some incredibly important details like What did I tell Daddy about my whereabouts and sudden unexplained disappearance? How do I explain Ben’s sudden appearance and his obsession with the smell of leather? (Apparently in his time leather has the smell of hot tar… when he smelled Daddy’s favorite chair he mistook it for an oddly shaped apricot. (Again, apricots have changed so much that in Ben’s time… oh, you get the idea.))

A lady never depends on a drink to drown out the buzzing of one’s brain. Then again, when a lady has ruined an original silk Bendel the one thing that will console her is a nice, stiff Gibson. Not only am I a prize-winning reporter, I also make one of the damn best Gibsons this side of the galaxy. I call it the Molly Sloan Special.

Well, the first one went straight to my head. I realized that I hadn’t eaten anything since leaving Tunisia and boy, was I hungry. So in the next Gibson I went a little heavy on the cocktail onions to put something in the stomach besides gin and butterflies. Well, those seemed to help so much that I decided that I should have just one more, this time putting eight cocktail onions in it.

Now I’m not what one would call ‘clumsy,’ but after two Molly Sloan Specials, the crystal cocktail glass was having a bit of a tiff with gravity and slipped right out of my hand onto the lapel of my hive juice-drenched Bendel suit. Let me tell you sister, I thought that was the final chapter for my Bendel and almost gave the go ahead to let the waterworks fly.

But when I went to wipe the drink from my lapel I saw that the Gibson had completely removed the hive juice stain. And not only that, it left behind the sweet smell of lavender. Hive juice and silk may not be a good mix, but hive juice and a Molly Sloan Special is pretty darn close to a miracle.

I quickly went to the third floor of our mansion and filled up the guest tub with gin, vermouth and four jars of cocktail onions. I knew the help would probably whisper tomorrow, but a gal will gladly let her reputation slip a bit if it means that a Bendel will be saved.

Let me tell you sister, there were tears shed, but they were tears of joy (and a bit from the over exposure to cocktail onions) because I can now mark item number three off my list. Not only is my silk Bendel saved, but that tub has never sparkled brighter.