I was extricating myself—from Dick’s arm as well as the conversation—with what grace I could when Teri came in, the woman in beaded blue satin close on her heels.

“There you are,” the woman in blue said gaily. “Harmon Lessner wants to talk with you two especially. You can’t sneak off and do business now.”

Teri eyed me narrowly, trying to decide if I was a business encounter or a sexual competitor. Champagne had added a rosy glow beneath her foundation, but late as it was her makeup was still perfect: the eyeshadow on the lids where it belonged instead of meandering around her face; her lipstick, a subdued bronze that was an understated version of her dress, fresh and glossy. Her chestnut hair, pulled into a complicated knot, looked as though she had just left her hairdresser’s. No frizz, no stray strands creeping down her neck, marred the effect.

By this time of night, without looking in a mirror, I knew that my lipstick had vanished and that such styling as I had given my short curls was long gone. I wanted to think I had the more interesting personality, but Dick wasn’t interested in women with personality. I felt like telling Teri not to worry, that she had looks and they would win the day for her, but I sketched a wave at the four of them and moved on to the far door without speaking.

When I finally found Lotty it was past midnight. She was alone, shivering in a corner of the outer lobby, her arms hugging her.

“Where’s Max?” I said sharply, pulling her close to me. “You need to get home, get to bed. I’ll find him and go get the car.”

“He left with Or’ and Michael. They’re staying with him, you know. I’m all right, Vic, really. It’s merely that the concert stirred up old memories. They started to haunt me while I waited. I’ll walk with you to the car. The fresh air will do me good.”

“Are you and Max having a fight?” I hadn’t meant to ask, and the words came out abruptly.

Lotty made a face. “Max thinks I’m behaving badly about Carol. And maybe I am.”

I shepherded her through the revolving door. “What about her?”

“You didn’t know? She’s quitting. It’s not that I mind that. Well, of course I mind it—we’ve worked together for eight years. I feel bereft, but I wouldn’t try to stop her moving on, trying new opportunities. But it’s why she’s quitting. It drives me mad that she lets that family of hers run her life—and now—and Max says I have no empathy! I ask you!”