She presses the button

She presses the button. "Yes, ma'am?"
"Has the motherfucker called?" a woman's voice crackles out of the wall.
"No, ma'am."
"Goddammit! Ever since he froze my fucking cards I'm supposed to get a fucking check. How hard is that? I mean, how am I supposed to feed Alex? Fucker. Did you pick up my La Mer?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Murnel picks up the tray and we follow her silently down to Alex's room. I am the last one in. Half the room is completely bare, a line of model cars down the middle serving as impromptu duct tape, and Alex, shirtless and shoeless, paces in front of a stockpile of all his earthly possessions. He halts and looks up at us.
"I told the fucker he has to bring his own toys."
Nanny,
Please call the caterers and double-check what kind of utensils and linens they'll be bringing for Mr X party. Please see that they drop off all the linens in advance so Connie can rewash them.
Grayer has his St David's interview today, after which I'll be running to a meeting with the florist,Designer Handbags. So Mr X will drive by and drop Grayer off to you at precisely 1:45 on the North-West corner of Ninety-fifth and Park.
Please be sure to be standing as close to the curb as possible so that the driver can see you. Please get there by 1:30 just in case they're early. I'm sure this goes without saying, but Mr X should not have to get out of the car.
In the meantime, I'll need you to start assemblying the following items for the gift bags.
Except for the champagne, you should be able to find most of these at Gracious Home.
Annick Goutal Soap
Piper Heidsieck, small bottle
Morrocco leathter travel picture frame, red or green
Mont Blanc pen - small
LAVENDeR WATER
See you at 6!

I reread the note, wondering if I'm supposed to pull out my magic decoder ring to figure out how many of each item she wants me to buy.
She doesn't answer her cell, so I decide to call Mr. X's office after getting his number off the phone list posted inside the pantry door.
"What?" he answers after one ring.
"Urn,fake uggs, Mr. X, it's Nanny-"
"Who? How did you get this number?"
"Nanny. I look after Grayer-"
"Who?"
Unsure how to clarify without seeming impertinent, I barrel on. "Your wife wants me to pick up the stuff for the gift baskets for the party-"
"What party? What the hell are you talking about? Who is this?"
"On the twenty-eighth? For the Chicago people?"
"My wife told you to call me?" He sounds angry.
"No. I just needed to know how many people are coming and I couldn't-"
"Oh,cheap designer handbags, for crissake."
My ear fills with dial tone,fake uggs for sale.
Right.
I walk over to Third, trying to figure out how many of each thing I'm I supposed to buy, as if it were a logic puzzle. It's a sit-down dinner, so it ) can't be a ton of people, but it must be more than, say, eight, or so, if| she's having caterers and renting tables. I think she's renting three tables j and they probably seat six or eight each, so that'll be eighteen or twenty-four, either I show up empty-handed tonight or I pick a number.
Twelve.
I stop in front of the liquor store. Twelve. That feels right.