Ari made a sound of agreement, then waved across the room at a person she recognized. “He is trying, I guess, to convince people that the first amendment matters to democracy. If I were Atlas, I would’ve said a long time ago, ‘You know what, I’ve done my part. You all go live in the small-minded world you’ve made for yourself.’”

“What would you have Atlas do?” I asked, miffed at her open cynicism. “Tend to a garden somewhere?”

“You’ve read Voltaire,” she said. She wore a turquoise ring on her middle finger, and when she gestured, it clinked her glass.

“This is DC,” I said. “Find me one bookshelf without Candide.”

“I so admire people like you,” Ari said. “You’ve got a sense of the world that is so unique. It’s old-fashioned, isn’t it? I’m so glad we’re friends.” Ari took the final sip of her whiskey and declared pleasantly that it was so great to see me. Before I could escape, she handed me a business card. “I do have to discuss with you something related to worky-work.” She sung this last bit, as though it were part of a nursery rhyme. “With Miles on HELP Committee—well, we have to talk about the short list for new HHS secretary.”

“As soon as we start to hear names, I’ll be happy to have a conversation,” I said, relieved that this was over and that she didn’t know I was on leave.

“I’ll give you a name.” Ari tipped her head toward mine. “POTUS wants a yes man. Or should I say, yes woman. Word is she’ll tap the Senate’s own Melinda Darley.”

I looked over Ari’s silk-draped shoulder, searching for Bo. This could be an important bit of gossip, one that might help me get back in the fold. I said something to Ari about being in touch, then crossed the room, handing my half-drunk glass to a cheerful waiter with a tray full of crumpled napkins and shrimp skewers.

Bo was by the exit, putting on his coat, turning up his collar. “Melinda Darley,” I said, catching him. “On the short list. We’ve got to tell Miles.”

From his unchanging expression, I could tell this was already old news. “Miles already knows this, doesn’t he? Why am I two steps behind everybody? I didn’t used to be this way.”

“I just found out five minutes ago, so, you’re not two steps behind,” he said, reassuring. “Only like half a step. Maybe even a third of one.”

Around the room, everyone else was happy. Everyone else was socializing gracefully. Everyone else was publishing books and renting new apartments and doing great at their jobs.

Bo laid a supportive hand on my shoulder. “Let me know about Charleston, will you?” Then he left, taking Miles with him.