“I’ve seen people who were embalmed and looked healthier than that.”

“You aren’t going to make a scene, are you?”

“Wouldn’t think of it.”

Anatole looked healthier at close range. With his fine skin and well-defined features he was Hollywood’s image of a Russian aristocrat. He had pale blue eyes, perfectly coiffed blond hair, and professionally buffed fingernails. His face was virtually expressionless.

When Kate approached him, he stood as a formal posture of respect and uttered an indiscernible word of greeting. He completely ignored Dave.

Dave grabbed Anatole’s hand and pumped it. “David Dodd. Nice to finally meet you, Anatole. Kate’s told me so much about you.”

Anatole raised his eyebrows slightly. “Oh?” He looked at his hand, still in Dave’s, and a definite expression formed on his face. Annoyance. He squeezed Dave’s hand a trifle harder than custom called for and repeated Dave’s name in a voice laced with condescension. “David Dodd. What a quaint name.”

Dave returned the squeeze and locked eyes. “Kate thinks so. She’s going to be using it soon. Katie Dodd. How does that sound?”

“Sounds like a birdcall,” Anatole said, tightening his grip. The muscles of a body builder rippled under his suit jacket, and a red flush began to creep from his starched shirt collar.

Cords stood out in Dave’s neck, but his arm didn’t waver. His eyes narrowed, and his biceps bulged within the confines of his blue flannel shirt.

Anatole’s face had turned brick red. His lips compressed into a grim smile as he took a wider stance and put weight behind strength.

Dave grunted and applied increased pressure. “So, you’re an ohhh-bow-ist, huh?” The words crept from between his teeth.

A vein throbbed in Anatole’s forehead. “I’m the best.”

“The hell you are.” Dave accidentally on purpose stepped on Anatole’s soft-as-butter Italian loafers.

“Stop it!” Kate shouted. “This is the most disgusting display of macho crud I’ve ever seen.”

Anatole dropped Dave’s hand and stared openmouthed at his scuffed shoe. “He stepped on my foot!”

“It was an accident,” Dave said.

“That was no accident. You deliberately stepped on my foot!”

Kate pushed Dave aside and faced Anatole. “Did you want to see me about something special? Or is this just a social call?”

Anatole plucked a huge basket of fruit from the floor. It was wrapped in orange cellophane and had a big lavender bow attached to the handle.

“I was delegated to deliver the traditional basket of get-well fruit. And I’m supposed to tell you Ralph is almost able to get a shoe on his foot, and everyone misses you.” He gave Kate an antiseptic kiss on the cheek. “Poor Kate. How have you been?”