Hors D'oeuvres and Appetizers "Hey, Rob! Hey, Shirley! Come on in, guys!" "And the Beckers are right behind us. Hi-ho, Debbie! Hi-ho, Peter!" "Come in, come in. Nametags on the table there, everybody. Drinks in the kitchen, goodies in the dining room and out on the deck. Yo there, Jeff and Marsha!" "You made your taco dip, Sandy! Hooray! And Shirley brought those jalapeño thingies that Pete can't keep hands off of. Come on in, Tom and Patsy!" TIME: The late afternoon/early evening of a blossom-rich late-May North Temperate Zone Saturday, half-a-dozen-plus springtimes into the new millennium. Warm enough for open doors and windows and for use of decks and patios, but not yet sultry enough to require air conditioning, and still too early for serious mosquitoes. "So, did you folks see the Sold sign on the Feltons' place?" "No! Since when?" "Since this morning, Tom Hardison tells us. We'll ask Jeff Pitt when he and Marsha get here; he'll know what's what." "The poor Feltons!
