Ned eased away. “Thanks, man.”

“Picked up some cigars for you when I was out of the country. Cohibas.”

Ned’s eyes got big, like a child’s on Christmas morning. “Cuban?”

“Box says Dominican.” Trey winked. “Left them under the tree. Merry Christmas.”

“Wow. Thanks.” Ned glanced from me to Trey. “Guess I’ll go blow a cloud. Excuse me.”

“Impressing a client?” I asked when he was gone.

“Impressing the old boyfriend?” Trey returned dryly.

I flushed. “I’m just having fun.”

“Are you?” Trey asked quietly.

No. “Of course.” Flirting with Ned . . . It was silly, harmless high school behavior.

“Where’s John?”

“Talking to a waiter.”

Trey quirked an eyebrow. “I didn’t expect someone from your family to be a snob.”

“I am not a snob. I’m . . .” Let down. Lonely, I admitted to myself. The one person I really wanted to spend time with was John. For one electric moment in the car, feeling the flex of his thigh under our joined hands, I’d felt that old chemistry. That familiar connection. And now the evening had gone as flat as the bubbles in my champagne. “I don’t know why John can’t relax and mingle with everybody else.” I winced at the whiny sound of my voice. Took another sip of wine.

“Give him a break, Meg. He’s the new kid here. You all have known each other since kindergarten.”

“You didn’t have any trouble fitting in when you moved here.”

“You and your sisters made sure of that. Besides . . .” Trey stopped.

His hesitation, the turn of his head, jolted me out of my self-absorption, reminded me of the lonely boy we had befriended almost fifteen years ago. “Besides . . . ?”

He met my gaze. “Money buys a lot of friends.”

“Oh, Trey.” I felt an almost maternal tug. “People don’t like you because you have money. You’re a good guy. You’re kind and smart and fun to be with. And you’re not exactly ugly.”

“I wish your sister thought so.”

I knew, of course, which sister he referred to. “My sisters love you,” I said. “We all love you.”

“Sure.” His smile flickered. “Thanks.”

“Come on.” I tucked my arm in his. “Let’s go back to the party.”

We mixed and mingled. So many people wanted to talk to Trey. A lot asked after my mother or my father. I thanked them, smiled, and moved on, looking in vain for John. I felt like a Cinderella who had stayed too late at the ball. My feet hurt. My shapewear chafed.

“You okay?” Trey asked as I squirmed.

“Yes, I just . . .” I was not confessing to Trey that my underwear was rubbing a blister in the crease of my butt. I set down my empty glass. “I don’t feel so good. Excuse me a minute?”

The powder room was already occupied. I backed away from the door. Glanced up the stairs. Surely Sallie wouldn’t mind . . . ?