“I’ve had a few unpleasant experiences with groups more interested in profit and power than ethics,” I said. “But if your dad’s a sci-fi fan, I’m sure he’s pro-humanity. Sci-fi is all about the individual’s ability to overcome adversity, particularly fascistic forces.”

Cricket rolled her eyes to indicate that she was officially over me at this point. Which was fine, since I was over her the moment we met.

She looked around the room. “This house looks exactly the way I imagined it. You know about the previous owner? He was a cocaine kingpin.”

“He was a real estate developer,” Ford said.

“He was supplying three counties,” Cricket continued. “At the time, everyone thought it was cool to be friends with a drug distributor, and he was so generous with his merchandise that they let him build this eyesore.”

“Cricket, some people may like this house,” Ford said politely. “It’s all subjective.”

“We think it’s gruesome, too,” I said, sure that Cricket would attribute any tackiness to me. As I nodded my head, I felt the plastic mirror-ball earrings bobbing against my cheek. I tossed my hair just to feel them swing again.

“Will you be doing a remodel?” Cricket asked Ian. “I can recommend a wonderful design team.”

“Milagro likes the disco room, so I think I’ll keep it as is for now.”

Cricket looked at him sympathetically. I wanted to smack the both of them, but Ford said, “It’s an awesome party house.”

His wife sighed. “That’s why I make all the aesthetic decisions in the relationship.” She spoke as if she was teasing, but I got the feeling that it was true.

Rosemary, always on the lookout for food, came into the kitchen, tail wagging. Ford bent over to scratch his back, setting off paroxysms of butt wiggling. “What’s your dog’s name?”

“His name is Rosemary.”

“That’s a girl’s name,” Cricket said slowly, as if I was an idiot.

“Rosemary is for remembrance,” I answered. Ford gave me a quizzical look and I said, “I had a wonderful dog who died.” Ian was watching me, so I didn’t mention that the name also represented everything else I’d lost: my fiancé, my home at his ranch, my almost normalness.

We stood around the massive kitchen island and finished off the martinis. Cricket focused her attention on Ian and brought up all her travels and her recent vacation in Lviv. “We stayed at a ski chalet near the Carpathians,” she said. “I do hope Lviv won’t be discovered. The chalet next to us had just been rented by a stunning model, Ilena, who had us over for drinks.”

I glanced at Ian, but he didn’t change his expression at the mention of his ex-lover, who was also an expert in international economics, and made me feel insecure on a number of levels.