“Hi, Paul.” Lyle reached out automatically to complete the handshake. Paul had never dropped his Norwegian habit of rising to shake hands whenever anyone entered the room. When Paul and Jayne had first moved into the ninth floor unit on Deer Creek Road, his firm handshake and polite bob of head had driven Lyle crazy. There were handshakes in the sauna, on the tennis court, and in the hallways. It had taken Lyle quite a while to get used to Paul’s curious habit, but all the women in the building, including Charlotte, found the ritual utterly charming.

“Look at the lovely flowers Darby brought us.” Charlotte gestured toward the centerpiece, a massive bouquet of roses.

Lyle turned to smile at Darby Roberts. Clayton and Darby lived on the fifth floor and Paul had designed a large domed greenhouse garden. “Yours?”

Darby nodded. “The yellow ones in the middle are my own hybrid. I’ve been working on them for years, and Clayton registered them with the association last week. I named them Marshall Golds and that’s my anniversary present. Smell ’em, Lyle.”

Darby smiled as Lyle bent over to inhale the fragrance. She was a small dark-haired woman, so thin her skin resembled white parchment stretched over a road map of blue veins. On the other hand her husband, their resident lawyer, wanted to look healthy, tan, and athletic and gave his workouts the same priority as his appointments with clients. At eight every evening, Clayton arrived at the rooftop spa, spending five minutes in the tanning booth, followed by twenty-five minutes on the exercise bike. Next came a fifteen minute sauna and then thirty laps in the pool. Despite his efforts, Clayton still carried a roll of flab around his waist, and Lyle knew why. Clayton indulged himself with three-martini lunches at Alfredo’s, where the entree was always pasta.

“Here’s the paperwork.” Clayton pulled a legal document from his pocket and presented it to Charlotte. “I personally checked the registration form. Since it didn’t cover several salient points, I constructed an addendum, which gives you clear title and protection against unauthorized use.”

“Thank you, Clayton.” Lyle tried to match Clayton’s serious expression. He didn’t give a damn if anyone wanted to grow Marshall roses, but it was obviously important to Darby and Clayton.

“I’ve got a present for you, too.” Johnny Day stood up and motioned to a waiter who was hovering in the background. Almost immediately, twelve silver ice buckets were wheeled out, each containing a bottle of Dom Perignon.

“Oh, Johnny,” Charlotte clapped her hands. “My absolute favorite champagne!”

“Your absolute favorite caviar, too.” Johnny nodded and the waiter produced a crystal bowl filled with the finest Beluga caviar. “This is just the appetizer. I’ll let Marc tell you about the rest of the meal when he gets here.”

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