“Something’s wrong here,” she muttered. She dumped the contents of her purse on the table, then put them back one by one. She felt Tony watching, and realized he had focused on her key chain, the one with the silver skate. It had been a gift from him, years ago, the only thing he’d ever given her. So what? she thought. Let him make what he would of it. She knew why she carried it.

As she sifted through the clutter on the table, a sinking feeling plummeted through her. “Somebody stole my wallet.”

Chapter Four

chapter four

“You’re in luck,” Melanie said, gesturing at Tony. “We got a professional right here.”

“It was the elf, or maybe the panhandler,” Elaine said, jumping up.

“You were with an elf and a panhandler?” asked Jenny. “Honey, you really do need to take some time off.”

“I dropped everything right in front of him and he must have grabbed it.” Elaine headed for the door.

A hand on her shoulder stopped her. “Don’t be in such a hurry.” Tony’s voice was the same slow, intimate murmur that used to melt her knees.

“What do you mean?”

“Your friend’s got it.” He nodded in Bobbi’s direction.

“Bobbi?” Confused, Elaine turned back to the table.

Bobbi’s face hardened, and suddenly she looked like a stranger, not the sister Elaine had brought into her heart. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bobbi said.

“That spare wallet you’re holding,” said Tony.

“You’ve got to be kidding.” Melanie grabbed Bobbi’s pashmina, which had pooled in her lap, and there lay Elaine’s red leather wallet.

“What is this, a joke?” asked Jenny.

“Harsh,” Melanie muttered under her breath.

“I was only kidding,” Bobbi said, her voice a nervous octave higher than normal.

Elaine felt as though she had been punched. This was Bobbi, whom she’d rescued from sandwich-cart-girl obscurity; Bobbi, who was her best friend in the world. “How could you?”

Bobbi shot to her feet. “How could I what? Wear your stupid clothes and go to your stupid parties in places I can’t afford? Kiss up to your stupid clients?”

“I thought we were friends,” Elaine said, her senses growing numb from shock—but not numb enough.

“Just because you put me in a pair of Pradas and gave me a cell phone doesn’t make me your friend. What gives you the idea that any of us are friends? My salary barely covers the rent on my crummy downtown walkup. For that I should be grateful? Ha. For that, I should go drown myself in the East River.”

“Well, that’d save you on the rent,” Jenny pointed out.