LETHAL LAYERS ½ cup unsalted butter ½ cup dark brown sugar 1 cup all-purpose flour 2 eggs 1 cup firmly packed dark brown sugar 1 teaspoon vanilla extract additional all-purpose flour (see directions) 1 cup chocolate chips (recommended Mrs. Field's)

Preheat oven to 375º. In food processor, combine first 3 ingredients until crumbly. This can also be done with 2 knives or pastry cutter. Pat this crust into a buttered 9-by13-inch pan. Bake for 10 minutes. Cool.

When crust is cool, spread pecans evenly over surface. Beat eggs with brown sugar until thick. Add vanilla. Put salt and baking powder in bottom of ¼-cup measure with flour. Stir into egg mixture. Pour over crust. Sprinkle chocolate chips evely over mixture. Bake at 375º for 20 minutes or until center is baked. Cool, then cut into 32 pieces.

When I finished I alternated thick brownies, gold-brown Lethal Layers, and Julian's creamy dark squares in a stunning arrangement, if I do say so myself, atop one of Adele's Italian wood trays. The dessert issue was under control. What was not settled was what I was going to wear. I hauled the last two boxes of food over to the Harringtons. Weezie had said .she had a surprise for me. I hoped it was not her husband. It was not. The short (midthigh) décolleté black and white lace uniform that Weezie proffered left me speechless. It was sort of French maid via Frederick's of Hollywood. If I dared to lean over to serve something, my cups would truly runneth over. I shook my head and mouthed the word, No. Weezie whined. She pouted. Said, "But I even checked your size!" "Mrs. Harrington," I said when I finally recovered my breath. "I get paid to cook, serve, and clean up. Period." She squinted at me. It made her look much older. "I thought I told you how important suggestion was with aphrodisiacs," she said. "But not with clothing," I said evenly. "When I describe the food, I'll make suggestions that are verbal." I was careful not to say oral. She said, "Oh, all right," and then stalked out of the kitchen. I shook my head in resignation. As I was leaving, Brian Harrington popped out from around the corner. Had he been listening? I didn't know and didn't want to ask. He gave me a broad wink. I did my best imitation of raw egg white and slithered out.

10 A day given to compromises, I reflected as I heated the broth for the dumplings. No caterer-as-a-centerfold uniform, no response to the Harrington Hustle, and the fee for tonight would pay Arch's tuition for the first two weeks of summer school. Philip's face floated back before me. Hungry? I had asked. Ravenous, he'd said. I pushed him out of my mind. I was almost done. The menu was finally set.