The student Candy Canes, Angels, and Harlequins had already begun milling among their parents. Four-year-old girls in smocked velvet dresses squealed with joy as they touched the Sugar Plum Fairy’s tiara and scepter. Clarice thought to herself, Barry was right, this is the kind of rat-fuck he’d really like. Other cities could have their annual Nutcracker benefits, but not with some of the world’s best dancers and children from some of the world’s most accomplished families. And the children had the most remarkable names—Sea Bernstein, Triumph Trump, Persimmon McCarthy, Savoy Navez, Dutch Barakiva, Yale Franklin, and Clarice’s favorite four-year-old, Real Chen.

Judy Tremont was eyeing Clarice Santorini’s center table with envy when Samantha Acton swept into the room, gaily chatting with Jock Soto, the debonair principal dancer. Unlike Clarice in her traditional holiday suit, Samantha wore Lucky blue jeans with a bleached-down front, four-inch-heel red leather boots, and a skintight green paisley Dolce & Gabbana velvet jacket. Her formal nod to the holidays were two Christmas tree chandelier earrings bobbing around her shoulder-length auburn hair.

As Samantha strode across the floor, Judy became momentarily dispirited. She realized that no matter how much she spent on exercising, skin care, or even plastic surgery, it would be impossible to purchase the effect Samantha had on a room. It was as if Samantha were perpetually surrounded by a soft light, so if you could manage to be in her radius, you’d be part of the most flattering kind of picture. Judy wished she could pinpoint if it was Samantha’s gait, or her body, or her face, that made every head turn. If you scrutinized each factor individually, they were lovely, but not astonishing. But somehow the cumulative effect was dazzling.

Samantha pecked Jock Soto on the cheek, crossed to the bar, and ordered a beer. Judy felt her face getting hot. She couldn’t believe Samantha Acton had the audacity to drink that many carbs, especially in the late afternoon. She was even more horrified because if Samantha Acton was drinking beer, it may well have been making a comeback.

“My God! Samantha looks fantastic,” Pippa gasped to Clarice at their table. “Only she could pull that off.”

“Yes, she has great flair.” Clarice nodded. “I admire her for it. I’m so boring. I always stick to basics.”

“Are you kidding? You are absolutely exquisite and everyone says that, especially Barry.” Pippa wanted to move on to more fast-breaking news. “Do you know if Samantha’s bringing Charlie today?”

“I’ve never really met either of them,” Clarice admitted, “except I hear he’s a fabulous doctor.”

“Oh, I love Charlie,” Pippa chimed in. “He’s been my dermatologist for years. He was on that list with our own Dr. Frankie here.” Pippa tapped Frankie’s shoulder. Clarice had invited Frankie to fill out her table. She enjoyed her company and she knew all her guests would appreciate an informal chat with a respected pediatrician. Frankie was flanked by Tina Schultz and Antonia Chen, who were grilling her about which preschool had the best emergency medical plans.