There are few things more humiliating in a woman's life than having an engagement party thrown in her honor when the man in question hasn't proposed.

As she stood in the doorway of the office conference room blushing violently, Clarissa Schneckberg tried to look on the bright side of the situation. Although it was much, much worse than the typical fast-resolving, base-model public humiliation (say, walking around all day with something stuck to your ass), it was considerably better than the sort of life-changing disaster which might involve an unwitting female in some combination of excessive nudity, a police chase, and a national television broadcast.

It didn't take long to assess what she faced. Kate had clearly told everyone that the engagement was a done deal. In her friend's defense, of course, Clarissa had clearly told Kate yesterday that she really, really expected to be engaged by morning. Of course, she'd been saying that every night for the last three months (okay, probably longer), so she didn't think it would be out of line to wish that a little more discretion had been used in the choice of party themes. Of course, Clarissa managed to delude herself every day about this particular subject, so why she should expect more of someone who wasn't even going to be involved in the marriage was a good question.

Equally clear was that Kate had not passed the word amongst the party subcommittees in time to prevent the wedding theme from taking irreversible root in what could have been just a standard going away gathering.

An unsightly divot marred the center of a sheet cake rimmed with gigantic pink plastic roses where someone obviously had removed one of those hideous bride/groom cake toppers and then tried to disguise it (unsuccessfully) with adjacent frosting. Next to it sat wedding bell-themed paper plates and napkins, a chipped company logo mug filled with white candied almonds, and a meat cleaver standing in as a cake knife. A small pile of presents wrapped in silver and white paper perched on one of the vacant chairs. And just about every visible surface was littered with iridescent wedding ring and champagne glass confetti.

The biggest giveaway, however, was a lopsided banner stretching from one end of the room to the other. It started out just fine, with fat, bubble-style silver letters:

CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR—

But then things got a little...awkward.

Stapled to the 'R' hung a piece of computer paper (undoubtedly covering the word 'engagement'), upon which was hastily scrawled the following amendment:

— quitting.

Witness to all this from her peripheral vision was a rumpled and abandoned Bridal Betty doll lying with legs inappropriately splayed up against the backrest of a chair in the corner.