As she smiled with confidence and assured them that the party was going to be wonderful, there was so much she wished for. She wished she could tell them about Bobbi and Byron. She wished she could explain that she’d run into Tony Fiore and was totally confused by him. She wished they could spend Christmas doing something quiet and cozy rather than over-the-top entertaining. But, of course, she couldn’t say those things to them.

Melanie and Jenny arrived, setting off a chain reaction of preparatory events, followed by the arrival of the guests in convivial clusters. Within a short while, the St. James affair was underway. With Sinbad’s expert playing as a sound track, the party burst into a flurry of celebration that seemed to Elaine to be as staged and visually busy as a music video.

When Tony Fiore walked into the room, there seemed to be a subtle pause, like a collective intake of breath. Even as Elaine hurried to welcome him, the speculation started, an insistent current of whispers flowing beneath the surface small talk. He was a rising young star, a socialite’s lover, an Olympic athlete.

As he removed his parka and gloves, he was either oblivious or took the attention in stride, focusing solely on Elaine. He looked wonderful in a dark suit and white shirt that set off a burgundy-colored tie.

She took his hand, grimacing a little. “You’re freezing.”

“My hands are always cold. Even when I remember my gloves.” He handed the gloves, along with his jacket, to an attendant.

Elaine’s parents greeted him with their usual poise, but also silent questions they couldn’t quite conceal.

“Byron’s not coming,” Elaine said, taking the coward’s way out and breaking the news in the safety of the public eye. “Tony’s my plus-one tonight.”

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Freddie said, her voice perfectly modulated.

“He’s an ex-hockey star,” Elaine added, easing into the familiar phony party patter she’d developed into an art. She was an expert spin doctor, adept at making people and products seem larger-than-life. With a simple verbal twist, she changed out-of-work actors into rising stars, has-been artists into cutting-edge visionaries.

But the trouble was, Tony seemed amused by her spin. When she said, “He’s in law enforcement—”

He burst out laughing and said, “I better get you out on the dance floor before I find out I’m a Kennedy cousin.” He offered her parents a jovial smile, and led Elaine into the midst of the milling couples.

“I get it now,” he said.

“Get what?”

“The reason it wouldn’t have worked out for us.”

“Really. And why is that?”

“Your folks. I’m sure they’re great people but I’m not exactly their idea of the perfect guy for their daughter.”

“Back then, maybe.”

“And now?”

“Now that so-called perfect daughter has a mind of her own.”