Deep down, however, a dance party was starting up. Peach Gallagher was single. Single. There was no Mrs. Peach. That meant Natalie wasn’t horrible after all for feeling drawn to him. For wanting to tell him everything, wanting to stay up all night talking to him. “Oh, I see,” she said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay. Tough on Dorothy sometimes, but you probably noticed—she’s pretty adaptable.”

“She’s pretty great,” Natalie agreed. “So you and your ex share custody.”

“Fifty-fifty,” he said. “I had to fight like a bearcat to get it that way. Sometimes it’s a juggling act, but I love every minute with my kid.”

“How long has it been? I mean, if you don’t mind my asking.”

“Couple of years.” He finished his champagne, and they moved closer to the display.

“And it’s, um, you’re okay?” Most of her friends who had gone through a divorce ended up all right—but getting there was often a long and painful process. It was one reason, Natalie supposed, that she’d never been in a hurry to marry. The potential for heartache seemed enormous. So was the potential for happiness, but she’d never been tempted to take the risk.

“I’m good. My ex lives with her boyfriend now. They’re investment bankers—Regina and Regis. Cute, huh? They have a place on Nob Hill, close to Dorothy’s school. It was disconcerting as hell at first, finding out the person you love has checked out of the relationship and didn’t bother telling you.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “That must have been hard.”

“I’m over the hard part. Don’t worry about me.” He put his hand on the small of her back and gently pressed her toward the display. “Let’s check this out.”

It was just his hand, she thought. But it was thrilling. And ridiculously liberating to find out at last that the undercurrents she’d sensed between them were not actually forbidden. But there was much she didn’t know about this man. Much she hadn’t let herself know. Realizing he was single might be a game changer. Then again, it might be nothing. She had no idea what he thought of her, or if he thought of her at all, other than as a client.

They joined the group around the vase. The display case and dramatic lighting brought out the intense colors of the porcelain. “It looks so important now,” Natalie said. “It’s hard to imagine it in some context, in someone’s home, before it ended up in our crawl space.” She studied the detailed storyboard outlining the journey of the vase from its merchant family beginnings in China, to San Francisco, to its discovery in the Sunrose Building.

“I’m famous,” Peach said with a chuckle, bending low to whisper in her ear. “See, it says ‘found by a workman during renovation.’”