On the stoop, in the present day, Susan looks sad until Lynette opens the door. She raises the Post-It wanly. "I know, the dinner," Lynette sighs. Lynette, your choker has got to go. I hate it. I fixate on it. Please get rid of it. They're seed pearls, for Christ sake. Who wears seed pearls anymore? (Seed-pearl wearers in the reading audience, please don't email me.)
Suddenly, the girls are all standing under a tree passing around the Post-It like a joint. Susan wonders how they all could have forgotten about the party. Lynette points out that usually, when the host dies, the party is off. "Lynette!" KimberBree gasps. "I'm not being flip, I'm just pointing out a reality," Lynette says. They chatter for a bit about how Poor Dead Mary Alice was so excited about her party and blah blah blah, you'd think if she was that excited about it, she would have waited until after the party to kill herself, but what do I know? Susan thinks they should go through with it anyway, as a way to honor Mary Alice. KimberBree offers to make "braised lamb shank," and everyone else offers to, you know, attend. "How many people will I be cooking for?" KimberBree asks. "Seven," says Gabrielle. "Three couples and Susan. Does that sound right?" Susan grouses that it sounds very wrong to her, and everyone makes sympathetic noises and KimberBree wonders if there's someone Susan might like to invite, and right on cue, Mysterious Mike jogs by, all sweaty and panting. Susan waves a girlish hand at him and twitters like a little girl. "I have an idea," she says.
"A dinner party?" Carlos thinks he might have to work late. Gabrielle pouts that he promised to be home every night that week. "This is business," Carlos tells her. "Said the prince as he rides off into the sunset. Boy, did the movies ever get that wrong," Gabrielle says petulantly. Carlos gives her a pleading look and then informs her that she's just "too tense." He thinks she should go to the spa, or do some shopping. "Find a way to relax!" he says, as he leaves.
Of course, Gabrielle immediately calls Miguel. "Where are you?" He's in Algebra. Algebra, my old nemesis. So we meet again! Is he free at 4? He's got track at 4. Gabrielle coos that her husband told her she needed to relax. "Want me to keep my gym clothes on like last time?" Miguel asks. "If you would, please," Gabrielle coos. Because girls love sweaty jockstraps! Make a note, lovers.
"A dinner party?" Gay Matt hasn't even unpacked yet! He just wants to stay home and chill! "Oh, [Gay Matt]. There will be liquor. And hors d'oeuvres. And grownups without children. And silverware. Remember silverware?" Lynette asks, as she takes sock after sock out of the dryer. Gay Matt is just wiped out. "I just want to hang out with my best gal," he says and kisses her. I have to say, I am partial to men who call me their best gal -- although I don't like it when they call me "lady" -- but Lynette just looks disappointed. "I was looking so forward to a night out," she whines. Gay Matt apologizes, but sighs that he's beat. "Do you remember what it's like to work a sixty-hour week?" he asks, as he tosses something into her laundry basket. Lynette glares at him. Gay Matt, do you remember what it's like to sleep on the sofa? I suspect you might be in for a refresher course.