Dick was standing immediately inside the door on my right, talking to a man of sixty or so. Even though I knew he was here, seeing him so close made my heart skip a beat. Not romantic enthusiasm, just a jolt—kind of like losing your footing on a glassy floor. Dick seemed jolted too—he broke off a smooth phrase mid-word and gaped at me.

“Hi, Dick,” I said weakly. “I never knew you were a cello enthusiast.”

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“I’ve been hired to sweep the theater. I have to take what work I can get these days.”

The sixtyish man looked at me with blank impatience. He didn’t care who I was or what I did as long as I got out of there fast. He was also oblivious of the children’s choir: free from the responsibility of looking angelic they were chasing each other through the seats, shrieking wildly, throwing rolls and bits of cake at each other.

“Yes, well, I’m in the middle of something, so why don’t you start work on the far side.” Dick wasn’t above a little humor as long as it wasn’t at his own expense.

“Are you wheeling and dealing?” I tried to infuse my voice with humble admiration. “Maybe I could watch you and get a few pointers, move up to toilet scrubbing or something.”

A flush rose in Dick’s closely shaven cheeks. On the verge of spitting out a curt insult, he turned it into a bark of laughter. “It’s been what—thirteen years? fourteen?—and you still know the shortest distance from your mouth to my goat.”

He grabbed my shoulder and moved me toward his partner. “This is Victoria Warshawski. She and I made a big mistake in law school by thinking we were in love. Teri’s and my kids are all going to have to work for five years before I’ll let them think about marriage. Vic, Peter Felitti, chairman of Amalgamated Portage.”

Felitti held out a reluctant hand—because I was his daughter’s predecessor? Or because he didn’t want me interrupting high-level finance? “I don’t remember the details of your settlement. You been paying ever since for your sins, Yarborough?”

I squeezed Felitti’s fingers with enough force to make him wince. “Not at all. It was my alimony that bought Dick his stake in Crawford, Mead. Now that he’s launched on his own, though, I’m trying to get the court to let me off the hook.”

Dick made a face. “Must you, Vic? I’ll be happy to swear all over town that you never asked for a dime. She’s a lawyer,” he added to Felitti, “but works as a detective.”

Turning back to me, he said plaintively, “Are you happy now? Can Pete and I finish our conversation?”