Vicki hastily clicked up the driveway, a stilted hawk overloaded with her catch.  The brown grocery bags held stacks of platters: twelve varieties of cheese, bruschetta with whole grain toasts, shrimp cocktail, petite crab cakes, an assortment of rainbow sushi, and fresh fruit arranged on bamboo skewers like a splay of exotic flowers.  She mentally listed the wines they had, choosing the main offerings to match the hodgepodge appetizers.  Vicki knew she had bought too much and relied too heavily on seafood, but her own cravings and hunger seemed a suitable guide for her shopping.  George wouldn't dare start a fight over it just before the guests arrived anyway, she assumed as she gave him a short peck on the lips and made her way inside their home.  Besides, things had been rather smooth since Dr. Thornton had finally granted them his best therapy methods.<br/><br/>"Did they call the house?" Vicki asked, her heels tapping smartly up the wooden stairs and over the kitchen tile as she laid down her bounty.  She began to unload the sacks, efficiently cracking open the clear plastic covers as she laid each on the counter.  She needed to hurry: Beth and Fredrick would likely be arriving soon and she was still wearing the rather severe gray skirted suit she had worn to the meeting.  Not exactly cocktail party hostess wear.