Two waiters with trays nearly collided, hurrying over to serve him. He politely smiled and shook his head, declining the proffered champagne and dim sum, then scanned the room. She could tell the moment he spotted her and Cleo. His eyes lit and he quickened his stride as he came over to join them.

“Hello, ladies,” he said. “You both look beautiful.”

“Mr. Gallagher, I presume,” Natalie said, trying to believe she wasn’t flirting.

“You’re looking rather toothsome yourself,” said Cleo. “I like saying ‘toothsome.’ It doesn’t mean what people think it means.” She tipped her glass to them, and a photographer stepped forward, asking for their names.

“Who are you with?” asked Cleo.

“Prestige Hong Kong.” He handed her a card.

“Cleo Chan,” Cleo said. “I’m a San Francisco playwright, and I’m wearing Valentino. This is Natalie Harper, owner of the Lost and Found Bookshop, and Peter Gallagher, the building designer who found the vase that’s on display over there.” She gestured with a flutter of her hand. The photographer made some notes, then moved off.

“Building designer,” Peach said with a chuckle. “I like it.”

“I figured ‘hammer for hire’ would require too much of an explanation.” Cleo gave them a wink and went to mingle with the glittering crowd.

“Think we’ll show up in Prestige Hong Kong?” asked Natalie.

“They’d be crazy not to feature us. We’re lookin’ fly.”

“The vase is the star of the show tonight.” She gestured at the lighted museum glass case; the piece was surrounded by more admirers than the governor himself.

Peach helped himself to a glass of champagne from a passing server. “It’s really cool, seeing all the interest.”

“You should have seen my grandfather’s face when they brought him in.” She gestured toward him, now thronged with people.

“Sorry I missed that,” Peach said. “I didn’t mean to be late, but Dorothy’s mother couldn’t take her tonight. I had to get a last-minute sitter.” His tone was edged with annoyance.

Couldn’t take her seemed an odd choice of words, Natalie thought. Take her where? “Oh, I … well, I’m glad you and your wife worked it out, anyway.”

He frowned slightly; then his lips quirked into a smile. “She’s not my wife.”

Natalie returned the frown. “Sorry, what?”

“Dorothy’s mom. Not my wife.”

“You’re not married?” Well, that was a common enough situation, she supposed.

“We were. We’re divorced now.”

And just like that, the world shifted. This was new. This was unexpected. This was welcome news. She pretended to be chill about the information. Like it was incidental, no big deal, no surprise.