“We are what we are.” He disengaged his hold on her. “A party in your honor is awaiting you.”

An image of the crushed mouse flashed in her head. She pasted a smile on her face. What had possessed her, three years ago, to respond to Wade's first-ever romantic overture, thus ruining the great thing they had going for them?

With the ambassador at their side, Wade and she worked the crowd of foreign diplomats, high-ranking Chinese officials, a dozen American Fortune 500 CEOs, and African and Asian diplomats in dazzling national costumes. Their wives, bedecked and bejeweled for the highlight event of Beijing’s social season, dotted the crowd. Nola basked in the attention and responded with small talk to words of praise and adoring stares. She was back in her element, but the physical nearness with the movers and shakers of the political and business worlds left her perplexed. These people had accomplished a lot more than she had, yet they looked up to her.

The ambassador was called to attend to other duties, and Wade became engaged in conversation with the CEO of Motorola. In the lull of introductions, Nola craned her neck toward the patio and spotted Daniel. He was chatting with a mustached man wearing a red turban and with the Chinese Minister of Culture, whom Nola had met when she arrived. She watched Daniel's smooth cheeks and the line of his jaw, so well-defined. He must be in his mid-thirties, just a few years older than she, yet the ease with which he straddled two worlds revealed a self-assurance rarely found in men this young. He appeared comfortable anywhere, secure in his own skin.

He caught Nola's eye, gave a twitch of a smile, and excused himself to approach her. She took in the whiff of his cinnamon aftershave. “I missed the scene last night,” he said.

“I didn’t get a chance to tell you about it at the party.” She would have, had he asked her to dance.

“The embassy’s TVs are tuned to CNN. The baby’s surprise arrival was replayed several times today.”

She laughed. “Stay tuned. I’ve already given a series of interviews.” Roberta’s babbling about the PR blitz she would brew materialized into ten six-minute interviews squeezed into the one-hour window in Nola's schedule. In each, Nola had voiced her intentions to give the baby a home. More interviews were planned for tomorrow. A Vanity Fair writer who had been given permission to shadow Nola for the tour had taken notes while Nola played with Lulu, and the magazine photographer shot several rolls.

“The Xinhua News Agency has made no mention of it,” Daniel said. “That’s the state-run news organization.”