Everything was ready for the soiree – she’d ordered in scrumptious finger food, loaded the CD player with global beat music, filled the house with lightly scented flowers, and stocked plenty of brand-name booze. As hostess, she’d done her part. Now it was up to her guests to enjoy it all. Ah, the doorbell – it was Mr. and Mrs. Buzzkill from downstairs – party poopers extraordinaire. But tonight they weren’t calling the cops to lodge a noise complaint – they were too busy admiring her necklace of large peach-colored rounds, black onyx and faceted smoky quartz nuggets. Par-tay!