Elaine decided to leave it at that. Her unexpected reaction was too complicated to explain. Nor did she want to try explaining that she didn’t like Christmas because she was afraid to let it mean something to her. She couldn’t bring herself to confess that the last time she’d tried to let someone into her heart, she’d been so hurt that she’d simply stopped trying. And she would never admit that the someone had been him.

“He’s here,” Jenny hissed, breaking in on their dance without apology. “It’s showtime.”

“We’re in the middle of a dance here,” Tony said, his voice neutral but firm.

“Sorry, but we’re in the middle of a deal here,” Jenny said, flashing a smile designed to dazzle.

He wasn’t dazzled. Elaine could see that immediately. “Give us a minute, Jen.”

“Half a minute,” she said curtly.

Elaine pretended to be amused as Jen hurried away. “So you’ve got thirty seconds, and then it really is showtime.”

“Elaine, even I’m not working on Christmas.”

She tried to forget how much it meant to dance with him, how it had felt when he’d wiped away her tears. She reminded herself of the importance of landing this account. And not just to her. Jenny and Melanie needed it, too. The three of them had built the business and rose or fell with the firm’s success or failure. And her partners didn’t have room to fail. Unlike her, they had no trust fund spread out like a safety net below them, ready to cushion them when they failed or simply got bored and walked away.

“Look,” she whispered to Tony, “I gave my word I’d help out with this guy. And we’re shorthanded tonight.” The thought of Bobbi tugged at her spirits. She pictured her former friend alone in her tiny walkup, fretting over unpaid bills, wishing she’d gone home for Christmas. The image of Bobbi’s misery gave Elaine no sense of justice or moral victory. It was merely depressing.

“Okay,” Tony said good-naturedly. “I’ll go help myself to more of those liverwurst sandwiches.”

She couldn’t help smiling as he headed for a waiter holding out a tray of pâté de foie gras en croute. For the next hour or so, Tony mingled effortlessly with the glittering company, his friendly, genuine manner endearing him to everyone, from the bartender to the ambassador of Uruguay.

There was an artful pause in the music and conversation when Axel entered the room. The subtle hush was different and more dramatic than it had been for Tony, because Melanie had arranged for Sinbad to pause dramatically in his playing. Axel and his Euro-chic entourage were so cutting-edge sharp that they resembled fashion mannequins. Their close-cut hair was slick and glossy, their black suits glovelike around starving bodies that probably subsisted on Campari and Dunhill cigarettes.